Scent of the Future
by Phoenix13
Summary: 2007 Movieverse Post Movie. Optimus Prime and Elita One face the future of the Autobots on Earth after the Decepticons have been defeated. Ch.29 A big surprise for Jazz and Prowl. 'Nuff said.
1. Chapter 1

**Scent of the Future**

AUTHORS NOTE: I needed to write down what I thought would happen if Elita One – Prime's old girlfriend and sparkmate – arrived on Earth. I hope this meets with approval! And if anyone has suggestions for Elita's alternate form (her car mode) I'd appreciate it. I can't think of what to make her.

And yes, I know Jazz died, but I wanted him back. Its not good continuity, sorry. He's such a fun and adorable mech, I couldn't not include him.

* * *

**Chapter One**

The protoform comet's trail was blazing red in the midnight sky, the comet itself was spinning on its axis and shedding chunks of debris. It was heading precisely for the open paddock behind the Autobot base.

Optimus Prime watched it, the palm of one hand planted on his hip. He blinked to clear his optics at the bright explosion the comet made upon landing.

"Another successful hit!" Jazz said joyfully, "Way to go, er, whoever you are."

The small group of Autobots consisted of the entire base; Optimus Prime, Ironhide, Jazz, Ratchet, Prowl, Sunstreaker, Sideswipe and Bumblebee. The humans, Sam, Mikaela and Captain Will (he was more than captain now, having been heavily promoted after the Mission City battle, but the 'Captain' moniker had stuck) were present as well. So far, the approach and landing had been routine. They all knew it was an Autobot; that had been confirmed; they just didn't know WHO. The protoform had refused to put forward that information. Ironhide was guessing it was a femme. But then, he wished every new protoform was a femme... Using his new Earth vocabulary, Ratchet labelled him the base's resident randy bastard. Ironhide didn't deny it, smirking.

With a shuddering creaking frame, the comet cracked and slid its components in transformation into a small, slim, bipedal form. The new robot coughed and its optics flickered, glowing blue. It unfolded from a crouch to stand upright, shifting uneasily on slender, curvy legs.

Sam and Mikaela waited for the Autobots to start forwards and begin the greetings like they had for the previous landings.

No one moved.

"Uh, guys..? Hello?" Sam craned his head backwards, looking around. All of his robot friends seemed stricken by something. Was this one – dangerous? Sam's eyes widened, "It's a Decepticon, 'Kaela! Get back!" Sam took the initiative and grabbed the arm of his girlfriend, tugging her away. Will glanced around and reached for the pistol he kept tucked in his shoulder holster – not that it would really do any good.

Bumblebee quietly placed his leg in the path of the anxious humans escape. "That's no 'Con, Sam. Watch," he murmured. It had been a long, long, time since he'd seen this particular Autobot.

Optimus was walking forwards in hesitant steps to the smoking hole where the new robot stood, backlit by the flaming, smoking, remains of it's landing. It was looking at them, waiting. Limp hands hung open at its sides. No sign of hostility.

"Elita?", the Leader's hesitantly whispered word sounded very broken.

The protoform cocked its head and stared at the huge blue and red mech. One hand lifted, reaching. A quiet whistle came from it.

"Oh, you're kidding me," Ironhide said with awe. Everyone knew he joked about waiting for the femme's to arrive. Like the others, Hide knew it was a million-to-one chance any of them had survived and would come.

"Is that – her? You're sure?" Jazz whispered urgently, prodding Ironhide in his side.

"Positive," the older warrior spoke softly. His body relaxed from its expectant state of returning cannon fire. There would be no fighting tonight.

Optimus had reached the protoform with slow steps. His mouth was open, optic arches wide in wonder.

The protoform took the last steps separating it from the stunned mech. It's head went back, looking up into Prime's face, who equally stared down back at it. Slender unarmored arms reached out and hugged onto his waist with one last final step forwards. The protoform's head leant down, resting its forehead on the lowest portion of his abdomen. It was very short compared to the tall mech.

"Primus... Elita..." Optimus voice began to break. His own arms encircled her form and held her tightly, his upper body bending down to reach.

A series of hushed chirps and warbles were emitted by the femme protoform. Her hands left his waist and reached up to press palm down on top of where Prime's spark chamber was. The mech shuddered, picking up one of her hands and cradling it with his own. They didn't have optics for anyone else watching.

Ratchet blew air out of his intakes and turned to the others. "I think we better go back inside, agreed? Come on, move it you lot," while his words were stern, his faceplates held a wistful smile. He herded the reluctant bots and humans away from the happy reunion.

Sunstreaker tried to dodge Ratchet's pushing hands and got a smack in the side of the head for his trouble. He went to let loose a protesting swear word and Prowl grabbed his arm forcefully. "Inside, NOW."

Sideswipe agreed with Prowl, silently helping to drag his hissing brother inside.

"Sides! Don't! If there's one there might be others! Lemme go! We didn't check!" Sunstreaker complained, trying to shrug them off.

"If there are others, they wouldn't want you throwing yourself on top of them and getting groovy with it, Sunny! Quit it!" Jazz added his glare to the one currently coming from a determined Prowl, blocking the doorway so the Lamborghini couldn't duck back outside. Sideswipe was too stunned at the femme's arrival to say much. His optics were wide enough to use as satellite dishes.

"Oh Primus, SLAG, did you see that? Elita! Of all the femme's to wish for," Ironhide shook his head, grinning, "'Bout time the old fraghead got some good luck."

"IRONHIDE! Language. Cut it!" Prowl remonstrated. Despite the reprimand he'd just issued, his faceplates twitched with happiness. Like all the others, his spark was glowing with a happiness to almost match that of Prime's own. Almost. No bot could be more happy than Optimus Prime right now.

"A femme? Is that like, a woman?" Mikaela was talking to Sam who was goggle-eyed.

Will Lennox had put his gun away and was observing the reactions of the Autobots. They were all quite stunned and vocal. "I guess it is. The big guy doesn't look like he'll ever let her go, either."

"Yes, she is a female of our species, we never thought we'd ever see one again," Bumblebee's scratchy voice agreed, smiling. 'Love Is In The Air' played softly from his speakers. No one told him to turn it off.

Ratchet ignored the lot of them, quietly opening the door, shutting it, and placing himself just under the edge of the shadowing roof. Optimus still hadn't let go of Elita One. She was clutched closely to his physique, talking very quietly to him, using indistinct murmurs of Cybertronian. The flames from the landing site had died down, leaving the lovers in darkness except for radiant blue optics intent on each other.

Finally, the two broke apart. Optimus took Elita's hand and turned to take her to the waiting medic. Her steps were not big enough to match his, she had to quicken her pace to keep up. He shortened the length of his stride out of consideration and slowed down, having forgotten what it was like to walk with her. It had been so long...

Ratchet began a few unobtrusive scans as they approached. She seemed basically fine, if very under-energized. He was of the opinion if she scanned for an Earth vehicle disguise right now, the effort would send her into stasis lock.

The pair halted in front of him. "Ratchet, I believe it is a long time since Elita received adequate medical attention, would you mind giving her a full check up?" Optimus asked. He was radiating happiness, tinged with concern at the exhausted physical state of his beloved.

"It would be my great pleasure, and what happened to the introductions?" he asked and turned on a slight smile for the femme.

Elita was watching him awkwardly. She had met the Autobot's CMO a handful of times, but had never been treated by him herself. She knew all about his reputation. While he was a brilliant doctor, he was hot tempered, with no patience or jolly bed-side manner. A very crabby mech.

Optimus looked abashed, "I apologise. Ratchet, this is Elita-"

"Elita One. I know. Just wanted to hear you say it formally." Ratchet pointed a finger to the side of the large building housing the Autobot base. "It would be better if we used one of the side entrances instead of subjecting Elita to the rabble inside, don't you think?" Abruptly, he stretched out a hand in welcome to the new femme. Elita took it slowly. "It's great to have you with us at last," he said.

A hesitant 'Thank you' came from the tired femme. She took her hand back, putting it back into Prime's larger comforting one.

Ratchet indicated for them to use another entrance and meet him at the medbay, deciding he should tell the others inside what was happening.

Optimus carefully guided his sparkmate around, looking down at her with great concern as she practically plodded along, head drooping with tiredness. "I think I should carry you," he suggested.

"No, don't you dare," her quiet reply was tinged with ferocity. "I covered all those light years by myself, I can make it the last few steps." Elita was dead against being carted around by any mech unless she was without legs or unconscious. She was not the femme type to need male help with anything. Although, her spark was wishing to jump into his arms and sob into his neckplating. Perhaps later, in the privacy of his quarters. She would allow herself that much.

"If you insist," Prime replied gently, holding her hand with a tight grip, caressing the outside of her hand with his thumb and staying close. She was still the same Elita! Able to do anything a mech could do; do it BETTER; and argue the point afterwards with any dissenters.

Ratchet was waiting in the medbay, an exam table all set up and waiting. His scanners and equipment were all humming along on stand-by. Prime helped her get up onto the table, lifting her easily and putting aside her protest with an apology of 'Just this once' (he would do that much, at least!).

He waited while the medic checked her over. Leaning back against the medbay wall with his optics locked on any part of Elita visible around the bulk of Ratchet blocking his view. He kept expecting to wake up from this crazy recharge dream. This wasn't real. It couldn't be. It wasn't Elita after all, it was... Chromia. Yes, that's it. If any femme would land, it would be her. The tough nut. Ironhide's mate. The trigger-happy headcase would be ecstatic. They wouldn't see either of those crazy Autobots out of his quarters for several cycles, at least. He'd have to override the door lock and boot the fraggers out to get work done.

His unfocused gaze was caught by Elita's. The brightness of her optics softening, her mouth perking upwards. It really was HER. Not Chromia, not Firestar, not Moonracer. Elita really was here, looking at him.

His legs wanted to give way and let him slide his massive frame all the way down the wall so he landed on his armored butt.

Elita.

What had he done to suddenly be given this gift? And what would he do if it was equally quickly taken away? Most things he wanted or needed - for his army, his friends, or himself - didn't come easily. He couldn't think of the last thing he'd desperately wanted for his own personal desires that had materialised.

"Prime? You there?" Ratchet was standing in front of him, supporting a sagging Elita with one arm. "She can go now. I gave her a high-grade energon infusion and everything else isn't urgent, so it can wait till later. Right now she needs recharge, and LOTS of it. You hear?"

He pushed away from the wall, straightening himself to his full height, "Yes, of course. Elita?" he held his arms out for her and she went into them, leaning against him with relief. He looked up, thankful optics gazing at his CMO, "Ratchet? Thank you."

The medic paused from straightening his tools, looking over his shoulder, his face inscrutable, "No problem. Look after her, Prime. Don't you let her go."

"Never," he murmured, guiding his femme out of the medbay and towards his quarters for some long-awaited rest.

Ratchet turned back around after hearing their slow steps disappear down the hallway. He pressed a hand to his face, not quite stopping the happy chuckle that escaped his mouth. Optimus had been denied anything of his own for so many millennia. The CMO was brimming with carefully hidden relief and happiness that finally, his friend and Commander had been rewarded with something that would bring him the most pleasure of all.

His sparkmate.

NEXT – Anyone up for the craziness of little Optimus and Elita sparklings ruling the base?


	2. Chapter 2

**Scent of the Future**

Chapter 2

Optimus Prime's room was eerily uncluttered. Recharge bed, a personal computer terminal (something way out of the league of Earth PC's) and not much else.

Some of the Autobots stamped their signature on their rooms. Jazz, for example, filled his with Earth culture and music. Bumblebee was fond of learning – storage chips on various subjects and even some Earth books filled his space, as well as memento's of his travels. He was one of the only bot's to do so.

Ironhide stored his current favourite weapons upon all the walls of his room like precious art (something Optimus frowned upon, untransformable weapons SHOULD be stored in a fortified security locker or in a subspace pocket).

While Sideswipe and Sunstreaker shared their single room (always did, always would, despite the ferocious fights followed by hugs and friendly backslaps) one got shut out if the other had a 'partner' over for the night. The shunted one usually ending up bunking in Bumblebee's room on a fold down recharge shelf the Twins had so thoughtfully installed in the easy-going mini-bot's room. Bumblebee saw a lot of Sideswipe.

Ratchet and Prowl were the bots most similar to Optimus. Ratchet hardly used his room at all. He rarely completed a full recharge cycle and took hasty naps in his medbay chair. Prowl, the joint-second-in-command, had the same attitude to his room as Optimus. Get in, recharge efficiently, get out. Simple.

Optimus lay on his side and listened to the faint comings-and-goings of his troops and friends outside. Elita had settled into recharge before she was fully horizontal on the wide recharge bed, arms stretched out and climbing onto it with a deep groan. Going out to it while one leg was still on the floor pushing her up. She'd flopped onto her front in a very inelegant pose. Face pressed firmly into the slightly soft covering of the recharge bed, one arm and leg dangling off the edge.

It had been left to a happy & content Optimus to help her off-lined form into a comfortable position lying against his own physique. He had turned off the major pain sensors in his arms when they had begun to ache; a neat and dangerous trick he had learned from Ratchet; there was no way he was dis-entangling his limbs from his mate. One of his thick legs, bent moderately up at the knee, was covered at inner thigh level with her much thinner protoform leg. Her arms were folded up in-between their chests, hands entwined. His arm hung over her waist, hand grasping at her back. Her forehead resting on the metal truck protrusions of his middle chest.

The night before had become day. Night came around again and Optimus was considering contacting Ratchet. It was now approaching more than twenty four Earth hours since she'd sunk into her recharge cycle. Although he knew; and had been told: Elita needed some serious recharge, he wasn't sure when to say it was enough.

He had not once left his position on the bed. Just holding onto her, or being the one she held onto when her subconscious self rose occasionally above her recharge programming and she shifted her body blindly for a few moments. Her fingers had scraped at his chest and shoulders, holding on instinctively like an Earth primate baby to its mother. Grabbing anything she could get her agile fingers into.

His spark was doing flips inside his chest. It wanted to do MUCH more than recharge. And his CPU was vigorously agreeing with it. With legendary skill and experience, he told both where to get off. The femme needed to recharge, for pits sake. Those things would come later.

There was so much he wanted to ask. Wanted to know. Where had she been? The femmebots - most of Autobot allegiance, some neutral - had begun to evacuate Cybertron shortly after the Allspark mission crew had left aboard the _ARK_. He remembered their transmission declaring they had run into trouble; Shockwave, or even Soundwave trouble; most likely. The femme's could not make contact with any other Autobots apart from Ultra Magnus' small crew, and he had told them quite bluntly and desperately to evacuate Cybertron by any means necessary. Elita had sworn via coded impersonal transmission that she would meet up with them again at a rendezvous point which had never been set.

That had been the last Optimus and the _ARK_ had heard. Over fifteen hundred Earth years ago.

He gently ran the back of his hand down the side of her cheek, caressing it. In her protoform guise, she was at her most vulnerable. It was their species basic underlying form. Somewhat organic looking with muscle cables exposed and only the simplest of structures functioning. No alt form, no armor. Scars showed if they had been inflicted deep enough to penetrate formidable inorganic armor and been left unattended without medical assistance.

...and Elita had a massive line running from above her hip, over her abdomen and twisting down her thigh. A painful and disabling injury. It hadn't been there before.

Who, or what, had done that? He concentrated to stop his overwhelming rage from pulling his rifle out of subspace. His spark was pulsing at him to blow something up.

Forcing his worst thoughts away, and needing to move, he turned onto his back. Elita's smaller body got dragged over on top of him like a doll with the shifting of his large bulk. She wasn't letting go! He had trouble removing her hands from the plating of his chest. She hissed in feminine disgruntlement when his hand pulled too hard at her fingers, trying to shift it so he could tuck her more neatly into his side.

"Lita, sorry, I'm sorry, didn't mean to," he spoke softly and stroked the back of her head, getting her to relax. She settled down, releasing her grip and curling against him, knees pulled up.

A few more hours passed. He drifted away himself into overtime recharge. Something he hadn't accomplished in ages.

His optics blinked. He wasn't on his back any more. Restless, he'd rolled onto his side. And what was lying on top of him..? A hand was hanging in front of his face. His head moved fractionally. Elita had moved on TOP of him while he was lying lengthways. She had positioned herself lying on her front, neatly balancing on the sideways length of his body. One feminine arm hang on each side of his shoulder. Recharging away.

He was the wall, and Elita was the mechanocat. Well, he wasn't going to risk being hissed at again. She could stay there. For the moment. He patted her hand and it twitched.

"... go way..." came a light grumble.

He smiled. She could tell him to hand his gun over to Prowl and order him to shoot at his crotch and he'd be sincerely happy with it. Whatever she wanted, as long as she was HERE. With HIM.

"Ughhh..." her hand reached back to her face, rubbing her forehead. He moved his head carefully, getting one optic focused on her.

"Awake now?" he rumbled softly. "You need more energon. You need to see Ratchet again, as well."

Small blue optics looked down at him. A smile shaped her faceplates. She grimaced immediately, "Oww! Oh, hurts." She touched her head again, frowning. "If he's going to give me more of that infused energon, I'm staying here."

He lifted an optic ridge, "That's high grade from our stores. There isn't much left, you're lucky. He can give you a pain inhibitor, if he remembers where he stored them last. Doesn't often use them, our Ratchet," he spoke wryly.

She was quiet for a second, bowing her head, studying the metal of his shoulder. "I haven't had it for so long, it's messing with my head. Painful."

His optics dimmed at the flash of sadness which shrouded his spark. She should never have been deprived of energon in that way. If he had any say in it, she never would again. He started to sit up, gentlemanly guiding her body down from his as he did so. She got herself sitting up with crossed legs. Her head dipped forwards wearily. "This visit better be short. I need more recharge."

"It will be," he spoke, enfolding her into an encompassing hug. "And I could even ask him to come here."

"No, no, we'll go there. We should move around, keep everything lubricated." She turned her head into his shoulder and sighed, enjoying the closeness.

"Come on, lets go." His urging was gentle, hands touching with care.

He helped her off the platform, guiding her movements. Once they were outside his room, she wouldn't allow him that little pleasure. He unlocked his door and let it slide back.

"Why, hey there! GUYS! They're out!" Sunstreaker's handsome face split into a grin after he yelled over his shoulder. "Elita! Cool! Had a good recharge? Need another day or two?"

"Sunstreaker?" Elita looked pained. She knew all about this mech. Her femmes alternately swooned over him or raised rifles and yelled threats.

"Sunstreaker, please, not now," Optimus growled, not impressed.

"Hey, hey, I'm here on orders. Prowl set this up," the Lamborghini lifted his hands in pacification. "Wanted to know the moment you two popped out, make sure you're okay and all that. He was worried-"

"Yes, but you could have been more discrete about it," Prowl's tactful voice interrupted the waxed-to-perfection mech. "I apologise Optimus, Elita." He glared at the grinning Lambo twin.

Sunstreaker peered into the room behind Elita, causing her to narrow her optics. "What?" she asked.

The mech paused for a sec, considering, then ploughed ahead, "So, no bouncing sparklings yet?"

"SUNSTREAKER!" Optimus roared.

Prowl drew a fist back to hit the yellow warrior. Such an unusual display of outright fury from the calm and logical tactician, Sunstreaker thought.

"Eeep! I'm not wanted, I know! Gone now!" he darted out from Prowl's reach and took off down the corridor, highly polished armor flashing.

"You're on report!!" Prowl called after him, pointing a finger with darkened furious optics.

Elita raised her optics to the ceiling, shaking her head. "All of the fun of the mech's in the Autobot base. How could I ever forget."


	3. Chapter 3

**Scent of the Future**

_Authors Note:_ I have been struggling to think of a way to continue this fic. It's been a hard month or two of banging my head on the desk and cursing!

This chapter contains some OOC moments, and bits of pure crack. One of the better things about this chapter is it's length – fourteen pages and counting! I know some of my updates have been very short lately, as some reviewers have pointed out. Sorry for that guys, its just that I can feel my inspiration beginning to fall away. It's not as easy to write and get things flowing along as it was months ago.

The addictive fangirl hit that I've been floating around on since the Transformers Movie arrived is starting to drain away. Dang it. This must be true of other authors as well. I've noticed the number of new fanfics showing up every morning on FFN is down to half what it used to be. We all desperately need the sequel to kick us along!

**Chapter 3**

"Sparklings? From us?" Elita One prompted Optimus Prime, her mouthplates twitching. She let her lower legs swing a bit from where she was sitting on the edge of the medbay table. "Sunstreaker has a one track CPU. If that bot actually knew what it was like to look after a sparkling – the tantrums, the wailing, the waste tank cleaning, lack of recharge, no personal time - he'd never utter that word in jest again."

Ratchet was busying himself with interpreting his latest scans of her slowly recovering form, his back was to the Autobot couple, leaving Elita to converse with her bonded mate. Conversing included taking stabs at his ego and beginning to see the funny side of things. This was now her third day on Earth. The lovely feeling of being back at her sparkmate's side, in a secure base, with the remains of the Autobot Army slowly being pulled back together, made her feel warm and at ease.

Optimus Prime was looking embarrassed at Elita's comments. Happy, but embarrassed. "I'm sure Prowl has already assigned a suitable reprimand for Sunstreaker. He shouldn't bother you again." _I hope!_ He growled to himself.

Elita smiled at him, a beam of contentment that lit up his spark like a thousand watt lantern. The femme looked over her shoulder at the busy medic, "Ratchet, am I good to go now? I can come back later, if you like."

Ratchet turned around, his optics meeting those of Elita and Optimus. "You're fine to wander around the base, if that's what you want." His tone was disapproving. If he had his way, Elita would be confined to medbay for at least one Earth week. "I would strongly suggest you don't leave the outer perimeter of the base buildings for a few days yet. And yes, please do come back tonight before recharge, you may need another infusion."

Elita screwed her faceplates up. "Oh. Not another one." She hopped down from the bench, flexing her legs joints with complete control and ease. Her body was beginning to feel strong and whole again. What an improvement. She took a few steps Ratchet's way. "Thank you, Ratchet." She looked up and patted his arm, then turned back to Optimus. She missed the delayed stunned expression on the CMO's face.

Ratchet couldn't remember a femme patting him in thanks before... wow.

"I'll make sure she comes back tonight, Ratchet, thank you." Optimus nodded at his CMO.

Elita sent him a traitorous look and gently reached up to shove one hand jovially at his side as she walked past his huge towering form, "You're no fun. Pfffft."

Optimus tilted his head down and watched her lithe protoform figure stalk past him, heading for the exit. He was so enraptured of her being here, he almost forgot to follow. Almost. His long legs propelled his body after her. She had stopped in the hallway. Waiting for him. Her optics were twinkling.

"You need to begin assigning me shift duty for the base. I'm also yet to be introduced to the rest of the mech's here." Her gleeful face looked up at him, one of her hands on a curvy hip.

"Yes, I know. We don't have to hasty about giving you work to do just yet." He answered, halting in front of her, his optics gently gazing down at her. "And as for everyone else, I'm quite sure Jazz would have told them everything they need to know, and Sunstreaker the things they don't." He wished she was fit enough to scan an alternate form. Her protoform; like every other protoform; was a flat grey color. Devoid of brightness and interest. It didn't suit her at all to be without her armor and colorful attachments. His arms reached out, latching onto her upper body and pulling her in for a full frontal hug.

"Did I tell you how much I missed you? How much I love you?" he murmured softly down at her. She wasn't tall enough to be hugged properly. They made do with her arms around his hips and her head resting on his lower chest. His arms encompassed her shoulders and back, large fingers caressing softly at her metallic skin.

"I think you did, but say it again." She rubbed the side of her head against his armored midsection. "I love you too..."

"Love you. Love you _always_." His words were so soft and gentle.

"What's up bitches! Love and things in the hallway, apparently huh? Nice!"

"Jazz!" Optimus jerked his head up, mouthplates twitching between a smile and a frown.

Elita One directed her gaze, at the small silver male Autobot, Prime's resurrected Lieutenant. "Hello Jazz, how've you been? How could I ever forget the one mech I'm almost the same height as?"

Jazz shrugged, smirking, Oooo she would pay for that height remark! "Ah, you know, fighting, being dead, being brought back, coming across you two making sparklings in the hallway-"

"JAZZ!"

The Lieutenant ducked his head at Optimus' indignant near-roar, taking a step backwards, "Okay, okay! Man, you guys ARE touchy about the whole sparkling thing aren't you? C'mon, its only natural!"

"I'm going to forbid that word from ever being mentioned on this base again!" Optimus Prime growled, letting go of his bonded and turning to face Jazz with a 'you-are-in-so-much-trouble' expression.

Jazz cocked his head, looking confused, "But then, what we will call your sparkling? Runt? Brat? Kid? 'The Thing'?"

"JAZZ!!! YOU'LL be even _less_ of a runt in a second!"

Jazz almost bounced on the spot, grinning, not in the least fazed by his gigantic irritated Leader, "Love you too, big guy, maybe not as much as Elita OBVIOUSLY does, anyway, and I think I hear Prowl calling for me, yeah, I do, BYE!" The mech trotted around them with a stylish swoop and raced off down the hall, continuing on his happy way.

Optimus let his head hang down with a small sob, optics anguished.

Elita laughed, patting his waist with one small hand, "He's still on that energon overload, I see. Poor mech."

"Elita, I'm sorry, I should have warned you about this. With the Allspark gone..." Optimus sighed, his shoulders sagging from their usual proud position, "Femmes are going to be targets for all the jokes and innuendo's under this solar systems yellow sun."

Elita frowned for a second, then got up on the front points of her feet and stretched up, laying a comforting hand on her mate's shoulder. "Please don't, do you think I'm incapable of fighting back for myself?"

"No." The ghost of a smirk appeared on his faceplates. "Far from it."

"Good," she dropped her hand, "Then let me deal with the sparkling jokes." She paused. "You do want a sparkling, eventually, don't you? We talked about this."

His kindly glowing optics met hers. "Yes, I remember." He startled her by dropping down onto one knee in front of her, putting his head just a smidgen below the level of her own. "Nothing would please me more than to create a sparkling with you. Our sparkling. Yours and mine." His hand reached out to cup her cheek. Her face turned to nuzzle into his hand. She smiled, and wrapped both her small hands around his own.

Heavy footsteps thumped down the hall. And stopped. "Oh no. Do you guys, uh, want some privacy or something? You shouldn't do this in the hallway. Prowl will fritz."

Optimus stood up, his faceplates twitching, turning to look at the next invader. His hands were clenching and unclenching, wanting his rifle. "Say the word 'sparkling' and I will shoot you. Commander's prerogative."

Elita giggled, looking up at the large and wide black mech. "Hello Ironhide. I never had to worry about anything happening to you. You're the mech who makes things happen to everyone else. Got a few more butt kicks into Megatron, did you?"

Ironhide's optics brightened at the praise. Optimus tried to figure out how Bumblebee blew digital raspberries; he wanted to do one. And he sooo needed to get Elita away from anyone else coming down the hallway, because if he didn't, it might be days before they reached their quarters again! Too many interruptions.

"I think you landing here will be the biggest and most happiest event this base is ever likely to see for a long time to come. I'm glad you're here and safe, Elita." Ironhide informed her, his big frame relaxing. His peripheral vision caught Optimus twitching faintly. Looked like the big bot wanted to hide his femme away from the rest of the base for a few more Earth days yet. That wasn't right! Femmes were for showing off!

_RASPBERRY! RASPBERRY! Or a stink bomb!_ Optimus thought frantically. Ironhide was really working Elita for brownie points. It was hideous! His Weapons Specialist was only flattering with femmes when he wanted to drag them to his recharge berth! Otherwise he was just basically polite, with no extra's on top. But... Hide KNEW Elita was his! This must be a joke.

Elita quirked her head, then reached out and patted Ironhide's right cannon on his forearm. "What have you done to this cannon, it looks bigger than the last time I saw it. More modifications?"

Optimus' hands began to reach out for Ironhide's neck armor. He jerked them back, making an audible hissing sound. Wait, didn't Bumblebee do that rude finger thing when he was angry? What finger was it again? And which way?! Optimus looked down at his hand, flexing it. Couldn't be the thumb, that didn't seem right...

By now Ironhide was standing NEXT to Elita and carefully showing her how he'd boosted the plasma inlet of the cannon in question, and also added a live round distributor to the outside of the cannon casing. The femme was nodding and smiling. She didn't have a Weapons Specialist of her own for the femme contingent, like Optimus had for his troops. She needed to know things like this. Ironhide could be very useful.

Optimus gave up on thinking which way round to shove the finger. Selecting his middle digit, he held it up in Ironhide's direction – and waited for an angry reaction.

Bumblebee exited the rec room, jauntily turning the corner to reach the residential quarters. He stopped upon seeing his Commander and Ironhide in the hallway ahead of him. And wasn't that...? ELITA ONE! Excellent! His optics brightened, a small chirp of excitement came from his vocaliser. As he got closer he noticed Optimus doing something strange with one of his fingers... was he? No. Couldn't be! He had it the wrong way round! Bumblebee laughed quietly. Poor Prime had never been that good at integrating into other alien cultures.

Bumblebee reached the group and without a word, he carefully reached up to Optimus Prime's hand, turning the entire hand around in reverse. His silly and obviously irritated Leader had been giving Ironhide 'The Bird' with his middle finger, but his palm was facing outwards. The wrong way. Now it was right.

Optimus looked down gratefully at his yellow scout. "Thank you, I was trying to remember how you did that." For emphasis, Optimus flashed 'The Bird' at Ironhide – and watched the black mech's optics darken.

"Put that away or I'll shoot it off," Ironhide growled. "Bumblebee is bad enough with that human crap."

"What's wrong with your finger, Optimus?" Elita stared at his hand. She didn't have a clue what he was trying to do, but Ironhide was getting angry.

Optimus lowered his head, sighing, dropping the finger down, "Alright, alright, I apologise. But please, can we get going now? I think you're going to meet every mech on this base in the hallway, for Primus sake."

Elita One grinned at him, then jumped at a sudden timid tap on her shoulder. She turned around.

"BUMBLEBEE! You're here too! Thank Primus!" The Femme Commander embraced the yellow mech in a hug, her head just barely reaching up to his shoulder. Bee was embarrassed at the femme embracing him in front of her bonded mate, but he returned the hug eagerly, patting her between her shoulderblades.

"See?" Optimus growled to a smirking Ironhide, gesturing at the hugging pair.

"Cool it, Prime, you're too possessive." Ironhide clapped a hand onto Optimus' shoulder. "All of us are pleased and thankful to see a real live femme again. Especially Elita One."

"You need an alt form, Elita," Bumblebee's scratchy voice informed her cheekily, letting her pull away from him, "I think my form will be much too big for you, but would you like to see mine?"

"Love to!" Elita beamed up at him. As much as Jazz regarded himself as the coolest, sexiest, 'with it' mech around - apart from an egotistical Sunstreaker and more mild Sideswipe - Bumblebee had his own unique sense of style.

Prime groaned. This was going to be a long day. Ironhide gave him a very rare sympathetic look.

It was a weary Optimus Prime who followed his bonded as she walked to the main exit of the base with Bumblebee. Elita had nodded enthusiastically over Bumblebee's flashy Camaro form once he'd transformed and laughed at Jazz doing spinning circles around Bee with his own silver Pontiac form. Bumblebee couldn't match Jazz with his newly improved headlights which pulsed different colors and flashed to the beat of whatever music he was currently playing.

When Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had transformed and joined in, making a complete shemozzle of car's doing wild stunts outside the base's main entrance, Prowl had to step-in and halt the getting-out-of-hand proceedings, muttering about youngling mech's and not-so-youngling mech's never growing out of showing off for a pretty femme. Then Elita had chided him about what _his_ alt form was. Prowl had edged away from her, looking as close to sheepish as anyone had ever seen him, staring down at his own feet and stepping sideways while shaking his head.

Jazz revved his engine and got up behind the shy mech, touching his car nose ever so gently to Prowl's shins. "C'mon, _Prowly_, show the femme what ya got."

Sunstreaker never missed an opportunity to dump Prowl's ego in the dirt. He took off into the desert, yelling over his comlink exactly how many miles per hour he was going over the local speed limit, and wasn't it, like, you know, dangerous?

That did it. Prowl frowned, tensed, and folded down into his car form with smooth elegance, showing off his customised 2009 Pontiac Firebird form in gleaming black and white, the Autobot police symbol proudly displayed on his side doors, the whole effect finished off with the words, 'To Protect and Serve' on his curved rear flank. His lights flashed on. He spoke tersely to Optimus, announcing his intent to bring Sunstreaker back for severe cautioning, then spun his wheels.

"Nice!" Elita chirped, smiling, waving in approval at Prowl as he tore past (at a safe distance to the femme, of course).

"Run for it, Sunny!" Sideswipe yelled. "Elita will kiss you if you can escape from Prowl!!"

"Like hell I will!" Elita snorted, folding her arms.

Optimus had settled his rear down onto a nearby boulder, covering his optics with one hand. "I am a calm Leader, I am a calm Leader..." he kept muttering.

Ironhide dumped himself down with a grunt next to Optimus, making the rock boulder tremble and blow off bits of sand. He nudged his Commander and friend companionably. "Elita hasn't seen your flames in action yet. Want to show off?"

Hearing this, Elita turned to her mate, taking her optics off the antics of the other mech's. She cocked her head. Gaze assessing and turning warm. "Optimus..."

Optimus Prime peeked up at her from underneath his hand and sighed. Ironhide chuckled.

"Show me what you've got," she purred.

Prime dropped his hand to his lap, looking down, "I don't think this is the time or-"

"Show me..." Her words were full of tease and her smile was glowing.

"Elita, please, I didn't pick my form to be a show off," Optimus said nervously. "Don't you think I'm a bit too old to be prancing around in my alt form?"

"Prime, get your shy aft off that rock and transform, soldier!" Elita commanded firmly. Optimus gave her an 'as if' look.

Just to be helpful, Ironhide extended one thick arm and shoved Optimus sideways. Off the rock.

"Wha-?!?!"

::THUMP::

"Ironhide!" Elita laughed. "You'll get him dirty! I'll have to wash him." She gazed coyly at her mech flat on his back, then turned on Ironhide with a nasty expression. "You'll pay for that, mech, when I get fully armored up."

"Will I? Make him transform and then you can wash his holier-than-thou truck mode," Ironhide shot back, folding his arms and grinning down at the sprawled Optimus on the ground.

"Good idea.." Elita trotted over to her bonded, holding out a hand, "are you alright?" Her concerned optics met his affronted gaze.

"Ironhide..." Optimus rumbled dangerously, getting to his feet and flexing his arm cables back and forth.

"Yeah?" The Weapons Specialist pretended to be scratching some dirt out of his cannons disinterestedly. Unconcerned. "Don't you get angry with me, you're denying your femme what her little spark desires. Transform and show her what you've got, slaghead."

Optimus scowled at the rude black mech, wiping dirt from his frame. Ironhide was one of the very few soldiers in the Autobot army who could speak to him like that and not get thrown in the brig or get the slag beaten out of his chassis. Glowering, Prime thought maybe it was time to change that...

Then his expression softened, and he lifted his head. In the distance, Sunstreaker was trying vainly to keep out of reach of Prowl's determined pursuit. His Lamborghini form was not as adept at handling the slippery compact sand and rock as Prowl's muscle car Pontiac. Sideswipe was yelling unhelpful instructions to his twin.

Optimus' faceplates relaxed into a thoughtful expression. Perhaps he was being too serious about all this. His mech's needed some fun. Maybe HE needed some time out too. Having Elita finally at his side and seeing so many mech's swooning around her and getting brash in their eagerness to impress her had made him get too tight and defensive. He looked down at his femme. Elita's gaze met his, her head tilted back to watch him, optics silently questioning.

"You wish to see what form I have chosen on this planet?" he asked quietly with a soft smile. "How can I do anything other than please you?" He stepped back from her, giving himself room.

While he didn't have as much outright elegance as Prowl, the bragging rights of Sunstreaker, the stylish verve of Jazz, or the sheer cheeky quirk of Bumblebee, his own transformation was impressive. Assured, unashamed, and radiating immense quiet strength, his alt form finally sat proudly in front of Elita.

His femme stepped back to get a better view, her optics caressing him. The other mech's had gone silent. Even Sideswipe. They were waiting for her assessment.

She stepped forward and walked around him, letting her fingers caress him; sliding over his engine compartment, trailing over his doors, stroking his wheels with whispering fingertips. She came to a stop in front of his grill, tucking her hands behind her back. The biggest smile Optimus had ever seen on her faceplates appeared. It matched the smile she'd shone when he'd asked her to sparkbond with him, eons ago. His spark jumped in his chassis.

"Optimus, I don't care if Primus himself came down to try and be one up on you. You would still be the most beautiful and desirable mech I have ever seen."

Sideswipe groaned dramatically. Someone else clapped. Jazz started to cry fake sobs, putting his head on Bumblebee's shoulder, "So beautiful!" the Co-Lieutenant cried brokenly. The yellow scout patted the back of his head consolingly, nodding with agreement.

"The flames are too big. He's compensating for something," Ironhide grumped, coming up behind Elita.

"Not that line again," Jazz groaned, "so un-original, 'Hide."

"Jazz?" Elita said softly.

"Yes Commander?"

"Turn his aft plates inside out."

"Oh, yes Ma'am! My aft is yours to command forevermore!" Jazz started stalking after Ironhide with narrowed optics, his three-fingered hands flexing greedily.

"Need a hand, Jazz?" Ratchet calmly said, and reached out to anchor Ironhide in place from behind with his hands on the mech's shoulders.

"Bout time you showed up, Hatchet! You've been missing da fun!" Jazz grinned.

Ratchet smirked an evil medic smirk, "I've got my fun here, you just make sure you kick it hard."

"HEY!" Ironhide tried to shake Ratchet off, swinging around in a tight circle. The CMO wasn't budging. He was matching the Weapons Specialist step for step. One had to learn how to hold one's patients down, yes?

Elita One ignored the melee of mech's. She was fully confident that Jazz would extract enough pain and embarrassment out of Ironhide's metallic skin to satisfy her need for revenge. She turned her optics back to her waiting sparkmate.

She reached out a hand and touched his front grill gently. "We better head back inside. I'm getting tired."

"INCOMING!" Sideswipe yelled, interrupting the tender moment. Sunstreaker came roaring past. Prowl hot on his rear and yelling furiously about endangering bystanders. Sunstreaker was confident of not hitting anyone – right up to the moment when his front wheel hit an odd shaped rock, sending him sliding sideways without control, right at Elita One.

"ELITA!" Optimus forced his transformation into overdrive. It hurt. He was much too big to be slamming his parts into one another at top speed. Standing up through the pain, he grabbed his sparkmate and lifted her clear out of the way of the horrified mass of Sunstreaker sliding and bumping past Prime's feet.

"SUNSTREAKER!" Optimus roared, "Get over here!" He held his femme in his arms, not letting her go. Elita noticed a tremor in his chassis. That had been far too close.

Sunstreaker's Lamborghini form slowly changed shape, revealing an embarrassed and mortified mech. "Prime.. I'm..."

"I gave you an order!"

"Sorry..." Sunstreaker plodded over to his fuming Commander, barely lifting his head. "Hey, Elita, I'm so sorr-"

"Shut it! You will be confined to the brig until I see fit to have you released. You WILL contemplate what damage you could have inflicted on an unarmored protoform femme. I hope you know how to _pray_, soldier... Prowl, escort him to the cells." Optimus' gaze was deadly. All of the other mech's were still and quiet.

"Yes Sir. Move it, you." Prowl came up behind the large sunshine colored mech. The pair moved off. Sideswipe followed after them, keeping a respectful distance. He was going to do some aft whipping of his own on his twin.

Optimus looked around. Ratchet had frozen where he was sitting on Ironhide's back while Jazz had been standing back and pondering aloud how hard to kick at Ironhide's captured and exposed aft. Bumblebee was looking worried. His optic arches were up in the air. Jazz was frowning under his visor.

"I'm okay, you know. I would have moved." Elita blinked up at him from his encompassing arms. "Really."

Optimus frowned, anger simmering from him in waves. "He should never have put you in that situation in the first place. He was foolhardy to come driving back this way."

"Ratchet, off." Ironhide growled, pinned on his front by the medic's heavy weight. The medic released him, swinging his thigh back and standing up. Ironhide clambered to his feet.

"Are you okay, Elita?" The Weapons Specialist asked, approaching the couple.

"I'm fine! Absolutely fine! Why the anguished faces?" Elita asked, wriggling. Optimus still wasn't putting her down.

Ironhide and Optimus shared a look.

"Elita," Ironhide was seriously disturbed. "At this moment, you are our one and only remaining femme. We have no information telling us otherwise. If you were to be... damaged in such way that your ability to produce a sparkling was compromised..." the black mech shuddered.

Optimus Prime bowed his head over his mate held to his chest. He noticed Ironhide had paused before saying the word 'damaged'. He had been meaning to say killed.

"Optimus, put me down," said Elita softly. The mech reluctantly let her legs slide down until they reached the ground. His arms released their hold on her torso.

Elita stared at each of the mech's around her. Her face was cold. The she started walking back into the base, not saying a word.

"Elita?"

The femme didn't stop.

"Elita!"

Optimus Prime took huge strides after her to catch up.

"Ironhide, you need the sensors to your mouth ripped out."

The Weapons Specialist looked askance at Ratchet. "Someone had to say it. We were all dancing around the fact she's the only femme we've got. The only Cybertronian female any of us might ever see again."

"You're much too fatalistic, Hide," Ratchet growled. "Prime's signal could take hundreds of years to reach every Transformer within contactable distance of this galaxy!"

"Yeah, well." Ironhide stared after where Elita and Prime had disappeared inside the base. "That's not the way I see it."

Jazz was uncharacteristically looking very disturbed. Normally his own mouth would've been shooting off opinions and trying to lighten the mood. He loved femmes. Usually his enthusiastic feelings were returned too. Unlike Sunstreaker, Jazz was more polite and friendly in his approach to the femme species, he had a casual and addictive playfulness that Sunstreaker lacked. Prowl was a fantastic partner, and Jazz didn't believe it would be easy to give him up, but... if there were no more femmes...

His spark throbbed painfully, and not just in the places where it had been ripped in two by Megatron. What a damn awful position for Elita One to be put in. He felt deeply for Optimus and the Femme Commander. He swore to himself he would offer them any support and comfort he could supply. He shuddered to think what kind of conversation was currently being played out in Optimus' quarters...


	4. Chapter 4

**Scent of the Future**

AUTHORS NOTE: This chapter is a bit long and rambling. I'm having trouble getting my ideas together. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and sent encouragement over my waning writing muse! I have been spurred along to get more chapters done. And to the author Plenoptic, my fellow authoress who also specialises in Optimus Prime and Elita One fanfics! Go read her stuff. Is good! Is very good!

And Litahatchee, who writes brilliant Ironhide/Chromia love and angst. :-) Gotta love Ironhide, macho hunk of love that he is. LOL

**Chapter 4**

Optimus Prime paused in front of the door to his quarters. It didn't matter where Elita tried to disappear to, his eager spark would tell him exactly where she had gone. As if he couldn't guess the only place she would go to when she was so clearly angry. The femme didn't yet have quarters of her own (and why would she? _His_ quarters were _her_ quarters and vice versa. She would get her own office though).

His head dipped forwards, optics losing their usual steady brightness. His massive form was quiet and still. Elita had to know what was going on, she wasn't missing a few chips. The whole femme situation was difficult. Optimus frowned, shaking his head - Ironhide... if his mouth got any bigger it would qualify as a new lifeform. Someone had to smack that mech. Factual, blunt and tactless.

"Elita?" His fist made delicate taps on the doorframe. "Please, let me in. We need to talk. It's not what you think."

It shocked Optimus into taking a step backwards when the door was yanked open on its tracks.

"Really? Do you want to talk or interface? That is the name of the game, isn't it? We need LOTS of interface, or more to the point; _lots of sparklings_!! Let's get the femme to repopulate the species!" Elita's voice was harsh. Her fingers dug with anger into the edge of the door. "Go away, Optimus, I'll damn well come out when I'm ready."

The door was yanked closed before he could react.

"B-but... NO! ELITA!" Optimus cringed. He leant over, bracing his forehead on the doorframe, palms of his hands flat on the door. "It's not like that..." he said softly, despairing.

The echo of footsteps approaching down the corridor caught his attention. Slag it, he could deal with Elita himself, it was his right as her sparkmate. He didn't need back-up.

Bumblebee's questioning optics peeked around the corner at his Commander.

Oh. Well, at least it wasn't Ironhide. Or Jazz. Optimus straightened up and shook his head at the scout. Bumblebee looked sad, letting forth a quiet whistle of disappointment. With an encouraging nod, Bee crept off again, leaving him to it.

Inside the room, Elita had sunk down onto the floor, allowing her back to rest against the bulk of Prime's huge recharge berth, hands in her lap, knees drawn up to her chest. She wasn't going to sit on the berth. She didn't want anything to do with it now. To be on it; waiting for him; was implying she accepted her role as an accessible female. One that could create a sparkling and give hope to the whole Cybertronian race.

She growled. A warrior didn't meekly accept such limitations to one's existence. She was a Leader, soldier, guardian, stealth infiltrator – and spark bonded. She was not going to be a machine for the Autobot cause, Elita One was so much more than the female who hovered by Optimus Prime's side! Why would she want to produce sparklings to satisfy the hope of the few Cybertronians left? She thumped one angry fist on the floor.

The door to Optimus' quarters was thick (as were the walls, this was a military base after all, not a show home) but she could still hear the repeated hopeful taps at the door. The muffled sound of her name being called. Optimus wasn't going to give up.

And therein was the point. That mech never gave up. He always did what was best for them. _Them_ meaning, the Autobots. She'd always felt she came second to the cause. Always. She didn't hold a grudge over that. Optimus was trying to protect them. Her, them, everyone. Keep them alive. The Decepticons wanted to destroy or enslave every living being in the universe, Optimus was one of the very few beings strong enough to get in their collective faces and say NO.

He relied on his friends, his army... and her. Primus.

She covered her face with her hands, rubbing at her optics. How could she not let him down without doing the same to herself? She looked at the door. With a faint grunt she got to her feet. Sitting and moping wasn't going to fix this.

Optimus didn't jump when the door slid open once more. The large frame of his body stiffened, expecting her to give forth more harsh words, or at the very least, the femme trying to dodge past him and flee the base.

Elita did neither of these things. Instead she stepped back, silently inviting him in. She looked exhausted.

He stepped inside, watching as she secured the door. She crossed her arms over her chest, turning to face him. Her body appeared shrunken, her tiredness apparent in her hunched shoulders and dim optics.

"You need rest," he stretched a hand towards her, concerned. She moved back, flinching away. "Elita? Please don't take Ironhide's words to your spark as sacred. He was merely expressing his own conclusions about the situation, they are not necessarily mine."

"What, the ones he said or the implied ones? 'Don't hurt the femme, she might not bring forth sparklings'. Yeah. Good old 'Hide."

Optimus looked down at her. "You're not the only Cybertronian femme left in the universe. There are others, they will come."

Elita frowned, her optics sliding away from looking directly at him. "Four? Five? Ten?" her voice was tired, "we're going to need hundreds of females to have any hope of keeping our species alive. Thousands would be a much better number, but that is a fantasy. You and the others can't think that just me by myself will make any sort of difference."

Optimus again reached out for her, and this time she let him. His hands settled on her shoulders, pulling her up against his strong body. Her hands clenched together against his metal skin. "You are all the difference in the universe to me, it matters not what the others think or believe. Listen to me." One of his hands cupped the side of her face. She sighed and gave in, looking up at him. Worried tired female optics met assured steady blue male orbs. "Any sparkling you create with me is ours. Not theirs, not for the Autobots, not for the Cybertronian race. Just us."

Elita grimaced, and flicked a finger against Optimus' broad chest plating, "You know, I think I've gone right off the idea of making a sparkling at all, now."

The rumbles of laughter filling her bonded mate's body reassured her nervous spark. She rested her head against him, feeling warm and loved. It wasn't supposed to be possible to hear a spark at all – it was noiseless – but she could swear she heard Optimus' spark pulsing a low comforting tone at her from his chest above her head.

"Did I ever tell you how enchanting you are? You're going to have the other mech's following you around like lost mechanopuppies. They won't be able to help themselves." His thumb caressed her jaw tenderly. Now that some of the anger was draining out of her, her tiredness was much more pronounced. Ratchet had been correct, she did need another energon transfusion. "We'd better go and see Ratchet, you don't look good."

Elita was willing to forego a huge argument, she did need some medical attention. She wasn't sure she liked this situation. Even if Optimus was expressing his opinion that he didn't expect her to provide sparklings if she didn't desire to do so, it was more than obvious Ironhide's comments had brought it out in the open. Doubtless, the other mech's were thinking along the same lines as the monstrous black mech. She couldn't stay shielded by Optimus forever.

Ratchet said very little during her visit to the medbay. He administered the drip, waited for it to drain, then announced her ready for another long recharge. Optimus looked like he wanted to say something to the medic, but he withheld from asking probing questions. Prime figured Ratchet had put Ironhide in his place, by whatever method the cranky medic saw fit to use.

Elita was awake and ready to go at an early hour the next morning. Her sparkmate had expected her to keep recharging right through to midday, and was surprised to be woken from his recharge programs by her insistent taps on his shoulder.

Her softly glowing optics looked down at him form where she was leaning over him, one arm propped on either side of his chest. "Morning."

Lying on his back, Optimus groaned. He could so easily become used to long deep recharges. "Uh, is it? The sun isn't up yet..."

Elita patted him and slid herself off the recharge berth, "It's been over the horizon for the past ten minutes, grumpyhead. Come on, get up, I'd like to search for an alternate vehicle form today."

Optimus sat up, waited a few seconds for his sleeping systems to catch up, then stood up from the berth. "Now _that _would be a great idea." He let his optics flow over her protoform state. "You don't look like yourself, being all grey and unarmored."

Elita snorted, proceeding out of their quarters. "You just want to perve."

Optimus followed after her, uncharacteristically smirking at her slender aft disappearing out the door. "True, and it would be nice to introduce you to the humans all armored up. Much more intimidating and awe inspiring."

"Awe inspiring?" Elita cocked her head at him over her shoulder, pleased. "You might just _get _some tonight if you keep talking like that."

It didn't take the curious femme long to filter through the information available on the World Wide Web. She discovered several vehicle forms which met her needs for functionality and appealing looks. Now she needed to scan one.

_Later that evening, after darkness had fallen..._

"This is embarrassing..." Elita muttered.

She was concealed inside a large trailer being carefully towed by Optimus. It had been rigged together by Ironhide and Optimus, to keep her discretely covered and protected while they travelled to the closest location of her chosen vehicle. Her back was against the wall of the trailer, bracing her for the unexpected jolts and bumps she was experiencing. Unfortunately, the mech's hadn't thought to provide suspension for her makeshift little cell.

One large bump almost sent her head slamming into the roof. "Hey! Watch the driving!"

"Sorry, 'Lita," a murmured apology filtered through over her comlink. "The roads on this planet are not very trailer friendly. Or car friendly, come to think of it."

Another bump bounced her from her sitting position. She sighed, and pushed herself back up. "Maybe I should be choosing a recreational four wheel drive vehicle. Better suspension."

Optimus' disbelief at her remark came clearly over the comlink. "You can't be serious about wanting to look like Ironhide! In pink!"

"No, no," she laughed, "I don't have enough physical mass to upstage Ironhide. I'd go for something much smaller and feminine. And red, not pink."

She listened to the engines of her fellow Autobots trailing along behind Optimus. Her mech's massive engine was steady and ominous, it sounded unbreakable and surged powerfully to keep him moving along. Ironhide was very distinctive; a deep menacing rumble, just like the mech himself. Ratchet was similar, although he tended not to rev his engine as high, and his gear changes were less frequent.

Bumblebee's engine sounded very flashy. It didn't growl, it was more of an authorative and seductive purr – something which didn't sound like the Bumblebee she'd known! He was almost an adult mech now, coming out of his cute and cheeky 'youngling' years. Some of her femmes would've been tripping over themselves to talk to him now. She shook her head hastily. She didn't know how many were alive or where they were, and now was not the time to think about it. Later, once she had herself sorted.

She couldn't hear Prowl; he was at the head of the group, his police car form showing the way in front of Optimus. She could occasionally hear his siren do a quick no-nonsense 'whoop' as he cleared obstructive traffic from their path. The Twins and Jazz had very reluctantly stayed home. The base needing guarding, and Optimus didn't think he could handle crazy Twin antics at the same time as ensuring Elita stayed safe and sound during their little trip to secure her alt form.

They found the Mazda dealership easily enough. Optimus halted in a side street, the other Autobots piling up behind him. After several scans and discussion, the cautious mech's gave Elita the all-clear. The femme quickly released herself from her trailer and hopped down, scrambling along the sidewalk, looking for the model she had chosen - Ah, there it was! And it looked even better than it had in the computer database. Slick scanning lasers reached out with crackling energy.

... and a new Autobot vehicle sat in the road next to the others, gleaming under the streetlights.

"Woah, Lita... nice car babe." Ironhide's tone was almost leeringly appreciative. The others didn't reprimand him – they were thinking the same thing. Bumblebee honked and bounced up and down on his suspension, flashing his lights, letting loose a wolf whistle (Sam often used it on Mikaela, not minding the whack in the back of the head he often received, the pain was worth it).

The femme was _stunning._

A Mazda MX-5 coupe, in rose red, with chrome wheels, lowered suspension, spoiler, oversized side vents with chrome lining which looked like an animal had slashed its claws down her body, double headlights, and twin chrome exhausts. Not to be outdone by her mate's outrageously flame patterned form, the femme had chosen to put a pair of oversized silver painted outspread angel wings on her hood. All of it was topped off with 'ELITA' numberplates and a recessed Autobot symbol sunk into her tiny boot lid – similar to Ironhide's customised symbol on his tailgate.

"You look... amazing. Uh, good choice, very good.. choice," Optimus' tone sounded like someone was trying to strangle his vocaliser. He was impressed beyond reason.

Elita's engine revved happily. "Thank you. This feels so good," she sighed.

Ratchet's engine rumbled and he moved himself up next to the new car, scanning with his med lasers, "Does everything feel okay? No glitches or pain anywhere?" he asked.

"Nope. All's well." Elita confirmed, revving her engine again. It was small but it packed a punch. Her form was lightweight, and Cybertronian technology got twice as much out of the earth-derived engine than the same vehicle in the showroom. She was guessing she might have a top speed of 350 mph. Perhaps more.

"No racing until we get back home, Elita," Optimus cautioned her. He knew she was dying to get out and let loose. Elita was not, unfortunately, a careful driver. She could give Jazz or Sunstreaker a run for their money with silly showing-off-and-having-fun antics. "Autobots, let's go home."

"Spoilsport mech," Elita chided him, blinking her headlights with a bright flash.

_Back at the base..._

"They're coming!" Jazz said excitedly. He'd stopped his worried pacing at the base entrance and was peering into the distance. He could faintly see headlights coming down the dirt road to the base in the darkness.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe came up on either side of him. "I can see Prime, and there's Prowl, and the cranky lugheads are in the rear," (Jazz smirked at Sideswipe's 'lugheads' term, it was how he collectively referred to Ratchet and Ironhide together) "But where's Lita?"

"Dunno," Jazz swivelled round. "No sign of'em." He began to get anxious. Just when he was about to contact Prime's comlink, he heard it. Two loud racing engines coming up from behind the other side of the base. Desert racing.

"Here she comes!" Jazz shouted, "Hi Elita!"

A small red sports car went past him at twice the legal limit and kept going.

"Oh." Jazz shrugged, laughing. "Bye Elita!"

Prowl came speeding along after the femme, cursing about fast femmes who had no regard for the road rules and couldn't be caught.

Elita did a speed slide, clearly having fun, and started heading back towards Jazz. Prowl threw himself into a smart turn, bumping sideways over the uneven desert floor, and went after her.

Following the pair, Bumblebee blew a raspberry at having been left behind and copied her slide, doing a carbon copy of hers in reverse. Then he spun into a donut, spinning himself round and round in a circle. Elita came up close to him and proceeded to do a wild figure-of-eight next to the Camaro.

"GO ELITA!" Sunstreaker yelled, pumping a fist. Sideswipe was clapping and laughing. This was one female who knew how to drive!

"Awww, so cute, that femme's got style." Jazz said happily, giving her the thumbs up.

Optimus arrived and transformed, standing next to Jazz and the Twins with a forlorn expression, watching his mate have fun. "There's no stopping her now. Perhaps the humans should've been warned for their own safety to keep their young and elderly off the road." His mate was a crazy driver, so different from himself. He rarely broke the speed limit and was courteous and safe. Elita was the opposite. He motioned to a transforming Prowl, getting the police mech to back down, "Leave her be, it's been a long time since she had some fun."

Prowl obeyed with a brisk nod of his head. He didn't like it, but what the boss said was the law.

Jazz blinked at his Commander, "Man, she's cool. She knows what she's doin'. And look at that _car_, Primus, I'm being left behind in the style stakes, dude."

Ratchet transformed and started growling about Elita doing damage to herself. Optimus put a hand on his shoulder reassuringly, "She's doing okay, Ratch. She's the first to say so when she isn't fully functional. I'm keeping my optics on her."

Ironhide folded his arms and looked sideways at Optimus, "Just watching? No touching? You're kidding me. Really."

Optimus eyed him back, optics twinkling, "No touching that you'll know about, at least."

"Errr! Old 'bots touching! My CPU – it hurts! Stop it!" Jazz moaned dramatically, feigning a swoon. Ratchet spat out a foul curse and dealt another well-deserved smack.

"Old bots?! I'll show you old bots! You're almost as old as I am!" Optimus said, glaring at his silver Lieutenant. He took a playful half-hearted swipe at Jazz, who ducked easily. He missed ducking under Ironhide's arm coming from the other direction.

::WHACK::

"Owowowow! IRONHIDE!" Jazz wailed, rubbing his head.

Prowl stood to the side and arched an optic ridge at the carry-on. Whatever.

Elita One finally got tired of spinning her wheels and rolled over to the small group. She completed her first transformation without any drama, pivoting around and looking down at her curvy new body, examining herself. Ratchet fussed over her until Optimus recognised Elita's 'I've Had Enough Now' expression and plucked her up to take back inside the base.

"Recharge time," Optimus stated, carrying her in the base entrance and looking down at the surprised femme in his arms. "You can do more playing in the morning. And I do like the wings on your car form," Optimus leant down and hugged her close, nuzzling his nose on the side of her upturned cheek. "My beautiful angel."

"Love you," Elita purred, kissing his jaw and looking up at him, loving the way his handsome face gazed at her with such gentleness and pure love. She wasn't going to complain too much about being snatched up and carried away. She was in the mood for it.

"Love you too. Now why don't we see how your new form responds in an entirely different environment?" Prime suggested, carrying her through the doorway to their quarters.

"Kinky!" Elita giggled.

"Lita?" Optimus paused inside the doorway, still holding tightly onto his sparkmate.

"Yes?"

"Hit the doorlock for me? My arms are full."

"Sure..." she purred, touching the doorlock with an outstretched hand. "Lights on or off?"

Optimus tilted his head, looking down at her, "Just one on. I want to see you," he said softly, approaching their recharge berth.

Elita smiled.

She spent the next few Earth hours being very occupied, and not thinking about sparklings at all, even though what her and Optimus were doing could result in one if they so desired it.

**AUTHORS NOTE:** Yes, there will be an 'M' rated chapter for Optimus and Elita. I'm working on it! It will have a separate title from this. Coming as soon as possible! God, is that a sentence with two meanings or what ::grin::


	5. Chapter 5

**Scent of the Future**

Authors Note: This chapter takes place after the events in 'Scent of the Future Special Edition' which is in the 'M' rated section of Transformers Fan Fiction Net (FFN).

This chapter dedicated to the other fanfic sparklings I have been awed by; _Nightfire _(gorgeous little femme owned by **Lady Tecuma **of 'Sparks and Plasma' fame), _Sunshadow_ (little mech owned by **Litahatchee**), and _Baby Bumblebee_ (brought to life by **Karategal**).

Enjoy!

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**Chapter 5**

It couldn't be said that Optimus Prime was over energised. Or kicking back lazily in his chair. Or unfocused and giddy. He was a mech who did not shirk his solemn duty as Autobot Commander for even one moment. He was, at that moment, a mech idling around in the rec room, relaxing with his friends. Just a bit.

Optimus frowned. So why was the ceiling suddenly looking a yucky shade of green...? He didn't like green that much. Hang on. It was _speaking_ to him...

"Femme. My medbay. Now." Ratchet's voice had that hard quality to it that warned of an on-coming wrench-throwing tantrum and some nasty; banned-in-three galaxies; swear words.

Jazz giggled, almost upsetting the can of high-grade he was clutching in his hands. Sunstreaker calmly placed his hand on Jazz's forehead; making the mech almost cross his optics together; and pushed. Jazz toppled over on to his back with a clang, snickering.

Bumblebee leaned over from his chair and tapped Jazz on the cheek with one finger like he was a curiosity, "Okay Jazz?"

"Pphhhtt!"

"Oh, uh, right..." Optimus struggled into a more acceptable upright position, one of his feet knocking over an empty can of someone else's discarded high-grade energon. Elita was sitting next to him, her face screwed up as if she was trying not to laugh. She'd only had one can of high-grade that she'd been taking sips from, compared to Optimus' quickly downed three. Even three wasn't enough to affect her mech's capacities in any way. It took the edge off his stress and nothing more. Optimus wasn't a heavy consumer of high-grade.

Ratchet kicked Ironhide's foot on the way out of the room, growling at him. Ironhide grunted, letting loose a foul glare at the medic's departing aft. The Weapons Specialist had been key in keeping the CMO away from Optimus and Elita while they had some 'alone' time in their quarters.

Alone time was over now. Ratchet was determined to check on the current status of the female.

Elita One snuck into the medbay after the cranky doctor, looking around cautiously. Ratchet was standing by, and he pointed one finger at his med table, silently indicating where he wanted her to be while he readied his equipment.

Optimus assisted her up onto the table, stoically ignoring her grumbles at being 'helped', "No, no, no; Optimus leave me be, don't; hey; no -"

Ratchet's face loomed in her vision, "Have you had any episodes of dizziness, weakness or confusion?" he asked firmly.

Elita's head shrank back away from the medic being so close. "Uh, no?" She wasn't going to say a word about her sore chest.

"Good. Lie down flat please."

Ratchet was very efficient in taking samples of energon from the ports in her arms, analysing the results in a microsecond. Standing away from the table so as not to interfere, Optimus watched Ratchet's optics widen for a second, then narrow. The medic shot a suspicious look at Elita over his shoulder. The femme didn't respond. She was lying flat and watching the ceiling, trying her best to remain patient for what was her third medical exam in as many days.

Optimus walked forwards, leaning down to rest his hands on the edge of the medtable, "Is something wrong, Ratchet?"

"Huh?" Elita lifted her head, her gaze switching from Optimus to Ratchet. "What's the problem?"

Ratchet kept his back to them. He didn't dare turn around and let them see the expression on his face. Composing himself with a grunt, and erasing any hint of his feelings from his faceplates, he walked back to the table.

"Open your chestplates, Elita," Ratchet asked, "please." He was standing on the other side of the table from the Autobot Commander.

Elita and Optimus exchanged a glance. Prime had no idea what was up. He'd been friend and commander with the CMO for eons, yet he couldn't read Ratchet well enough to say what was going on. Fear and concern snuck into his spark.

The Femme Commander shrugged, "Alright." At a command from her CPU, her chestplates slid open with a faint transforming sound.

The overhead examination lights dimmed out the glow from her spark, but it also illuminated something else.

Ratchet's mouthplates stretched into the broadest grin he'd ever achieved. "Will you look at that. Just perfect, wouldn't you say?"

Elita began to sit up, "What? I can't see anything, what are you-"

Ratchet pushed her back down gently with his hand on her shoulder, shaking his head, still smiling like he'd never wipe the emotion from his face.

Optimus gasped. He'd been looking straight at it for a few seconds, not knowing what the extra light in the chasm below her spark was. "_Primus_... you're kidding me..."

"No kidding." Ratchet's optic ridges arched up in amusement. "Absolutely not."

"Is that a ...?" Optimus blinked his optic covers a few times, thunderstruck.

"Oh yes. It is. No mistaking that for anything else."

"WHAT are you two going on about?!" Elita demanded. Her optics darted from Ratchet to Optimus. "I can't see that far down! Tell me what you're looking at!"

Prime's face came down to stare directly into Elita's worried but annoyed optics. "Elita... you've got a... _sparkling_ in your chest." He had a stupid grin splitting his face.

The femme's optics went so wide that Optimus waited for the 'crack' as they broke. Elita made a choking sound, lifted her head, gasped, then fainted clean away, her head thumping back onto the table. Her optics went dark.

"Elita?! Elita!" Optimus grabbed at her shoulders. He wasn't feeling so with it himself. This was wonderful news! Incredible! Amazing!

"She'll be okay, she's tough," Ratchet chuckled, he held out a hand to his friend, "Congratulations."

Optimus took the hand with weak strength, allowing the medic to squeeze his frozen fingers. "...Elita?" His gaze never left his sparkmate. His optics flickered from anxiously watching her face for signs of her coming back to life, to gazing with utter fascination and disbelief at the sparkling orb in her chest. He'd done this? They'd done it together?

"You don't look so good yourself," Ratchet observed, "perhaps you had better sit down. It's a bit of a shock, I imagine."

"No! No." Optimus shook his head, feeling woozy, "I thought... I thought there had been something different about; you know. It seemed much more powerful, but it's been so long, I wasn't sure." He struggled to express his thoughts. "There was energy crackling all around, up, and down our bodies. Hers to mine. Back and forth." His hands moved, trying to illustrate what he'd seen.

"Yep," Ratchet crossed his arms, letting his personal scanners run on automatic up and down the prone offline femme. She was perfectly okay, just passed out. "I gathered as much. Why do you think I was yelling outside your room? If Ironhide hadn't interfered we'd have known about this much sooner."

"You knew?!" Optimus lifted his head to stare at him, his gaze piercing.

"I suspected. I 've got my theories."

Elita groaned, coming awake. She put a shaking hand to her face. "Oh God..."

Ratchet focused his attention on the femme, "Elita? Everything's fine, you're doing well. You have a sparkling orb in your reproduction chamber. The scans are clean, there are no problems." He clasped her hand and squeezed, "Congratulations."

"...I want to see it..." The femme's voice was whispering with awe and just a small dose of confusion. "Can I?"

Ratchet nodded, "Of course." He promptly produced a hologram of her abdomen, singled out the sparkling chamber, and enlarged it. The hologram of her sparkling nestled in it's chamber hovered in front of her wide optics. Optimus' mouth opened, his jaw hanging loose.

This was their sparkling. It was just an orb at the moment, Ratchet would need to build a tiny-sized body for the little tyke to inhabit, but it was the most spectacular and humbling sight either of them had ever laid optics on.

Elita tore her optics off the picture of her sparkling to stare up at her mate. Optimus looked at her tenderly, leaned down, and pressed his forehead to hers, his optics dimming. Elita started to shake, clutching at him for support. There were smiles amid all the emotion.

Watching the new speechless parents, Ratchet excused himself, allowing them some time alone. He couldn't think of a better couple for such a rare event to happen to. Imagine; Optimus Prime and Elita One as progenitors. Astonishing. His CPU was almost producing sparks of it's own running along at breakneck pace with plans for the body he was going to build for the spark to be inserted into. What he wouldn't give to have Wheeljack or First Aid here...

Above all else, beyond the happiness the existence of this sparkling brought, it was going to need extra special protection. And he had some brilliant ideas of how to go about it...

**NEXT: Boy? Girl? What's the name? How to tell the other Autobot's about their new addition? All in the next chapter, sweeties. Coming soon!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Scent of the Future**

Authors Note: Many thanks to **Lady Tecuma** (lady tecuma) for her sparkling birth concept (the body built by Ratchet), first used for _Nightfire _in **'Sparks and Plasma'**. I couldn't think of a better, or more logical way to get Elita and Prime's sparkling into the world. Cheers!

**Chapter 6**

Optimus Prime sat in a corner of the medbay and watched Ratchet tidy up his messes after tending to today's roster of troops who needed maintenance checks or injuries repaired - Elita One having been one of the 'bots also present in the cantankerous medic's domain that day, discovering she was bearing a sparkling after her and the Autobot Commander's 'innocent' adventures in their quarters. She was currently resting on their recharge berth in their room; the shock, excitement and wonder at creating a sparkling having worn out the femme.

Prime thought over the conversation he and his sparkmate had before she'd drifted off into recharge, her programs booting up and taking her away into unconsciousness.

"What are we going to call it?"

"What?" Optimus paused in helping her settle down onto the berth platform.

"Our sparkling." Her face looked very serious, her optics focusing steadily on his. "He will need a name."

He smiled gently at her, " 'He' could be a 'she', don't forget." He rested a hand on her shoulder lightly, sitting next to her on the berth, "do you want a male?"

"Mmmm, I don't know," she tilted her head to the side, then sighed looking down at her abdomen, "This is nice and all, I just... I didn't plan for this to happen right now." She grinned, making his spark jump with happiness in his chest, "It will be a little mech just like you or a femme like me. I don't think I'd make for a good sparkling, too screechy and irritable. A mech would be better, he'd be all serious and noble like his sire," she laughed.

"Really?" Prime's optic ridges rose up in amusement. "You think I'm noble? And you do not screech!"

Elita nodded, taking his large hand into between her own and cradling it in her lap, "Everyone agrees you're noble. Noble, brave, nice, kind," her optics twinkled cheekily as her words continued, "Cute, gorgeous, do-able, too hot to touch, set's femme's sparks on fire." She was having a poke at him.

"Go off-line, femme, you need some rest," Optimus chided her, then removed his hand from hers and reached up to her face, stroking his fingers down her cheek. "Let me know immediately if you don't feel well, alright?"

"Why should I feel sick?" she blinked at him.

Optimus looked embarrassed, smiling shyly, "I don't know, I'm a mech, I'm looking after my femme and sparkling now, aren't I?"

Elita snorted, "Oh, go talk to Ratchet, you're probably bursting with questions and I'm sure he wants to tell you a thing or two as well."

Optimus rolled his optics, "He always does."

Elita grinned, settling back down on the bed. She lay down on her side, her knees pulled up to her chest. Her recharge program was beeping at her, insisting on beginning it's cycle. Her smiled gently at her and rested his hand softly on the side of her head, waiting as she went off-line, then when she was quiet and her optics were dark, he left their quarters and walked back to the medbay.

"I'll start work on constructing the protoform body tomorrow. Should be ready by tomorrow evening, it's not hard to make, since it's small."

"Huh?" Optimus lifted his head. Ratchet was standing in front of him, hands on his hips.

"Hello? Remember your sparkling? The pretty light in Elita's chest?" said Ratchet, scoffing light-heartedly.

"WHAT 'pretty light' in Elita's chest?" demanded a gruff well-known voice. Thick heavy footsteps thumped in the medbay door.

"Oh slag... sorry Optimus," Ratchet groaned.

"Ratchet!" Optimus Prime hissed.

"Eh? What are you two talking about?" Ironhide grunted, stopping next to his two friends. "Interfacing again?"

Ratchet got up into Ironhide's faceplates, standing up on the tips of his metallic toes, "I'll interface you with a toaster if you don't shut it."

Ironhide blinked down at him, then looked around the huffing CMO and straight at Optimus. He smirked. "Is there something you need to tell me?"

The Autobot Leader's shoulders sagged. Slag it. If anything, he and Elita both owed Ironhide for his help in keeping Ratchet on a leash, even if they did not want to let out their precious news just yet.

Optimus took slow deliberate strides to his Weapons Specialist. Halted in front of him. Stood up straight. "Ironhide," he began gravely, "I have some information for you."

"Yeah?"

Prime's face split into a big grin, "Elita and I have produced a sparkling."

"Wha...? PIT! FRAG! You mean..? You're SURE?! Youngling!" Ironhide spluttered, choked, and coughed his way through his surprise. "Primus on a jet-ski! Give me that sort of news a bit more gently, why don't you!" He put a hand to his forehead and huffed air in and out of his vents. He swayed on his feet.

Ratchet helped him stay upright with a derisive snort, "Ironhide, calm down." In all the time he and Ironhide had been friends, he'd hardly ever seen the black mech get so over-awed.

"I'm calm! I'm calm... wow." He grabbed Prime's hand and shook it hard, "This is great news, just great. How's Elita doing, okay?"

Prime took his abused hand back with an ecstatic smile, "She's fine, she's resting. Ratchet will have the protoform body ready tomorrow. Then, I think..." he paused, weighing up his options; it wasn't every day he had to decide how to tell other 'bots about a new sparkling! "We might reveal him or her to the base when it's all ready. I'll have to see what Elita says, what she would like to do." He smiled again. "It's a big surprise for us too."

"Right! That's enough! Out of here you two, I have work to do." Ratchet shooed them out. He stood in the doorway and watched the pair wander off.

"Why so quick? Didn't you want to wait?" Ironhide was asking Optimus.

"We don't know that either! It was just 'POOF'!" Prime tossed his hands up in the air, "There it is! Instant!"

Ironhide nodded his head in wonder, "Amazing..."

Ratchet chuckled, closing the door. Tomorrow was going to be a big day.

_**The next day, late afternoon...**_

"It won't hurt, will it?"

Ratchet looked gravely at the Femme Commander lying on his medbay bench. "No. Not at all. There's nothing to worry about. Open chest, open reproduction chamber, remove sparkling, close everything up. Simple, really."

Elita stared at him. "And you've done this HOW many times LATELY?"

"Femme! I'm qualified! Don't worry!"

"Don't tell me what to do! I'm the one on the bench!"

Optimus was looking over the small body Ratchet had made for his sparkling. In a few Earth minutes time it would be alive and animated. The body was grey, and only big enough to reach his ankle in height. What would it talk like? Sparkling speech, he presumed, but what things would it want to say? Would it like him and Elita?

"Elita, please, just be calm, there is NOTHING to agonise over. It's all very safe and pain-free. Now, Optimus, are you ready? Optimus?"

He reached out and timidly stroked the head of the protoform with his fingertips. How on Cybertron was he NOT going to tread on the poor little thing running around underneath his giant feet? It looked so fragile. His CPU brought up the two names he and 'Lita had settled upon in a rush last night. A name for a mech, and a name for a femme. What if there was more than one –

"OPTIMUS!" Ratchet cried.

Prime jerked around, practically skittering over to Elita's side, making the femme smile at such un-Optimus-like behaviour. "Sorry! Sorry. Yes?"

Ratchet gave him a mild 'duh' glance. "Let's begin, no need to wait."

"Okay." He moved to the other side of the table and took Elita's hand. He felt it trembling. He squeezed it, gazing at her fondly. "You'll be fine," he murmured, brushing a hand over her forehead.

She smiled nervously, "I'll feel better when he or she is out and I'm closed up again." She suddenly grabbed at Ratchet's hand, "Why couldn't HE carry it?" her thumb jerked at her sparkmate.

"Me?!" Optimus' jaw dropped. He looked down at his enormous chest, "where would it go? There's no room in there!"

Ratchet paused with his hands hovering over her chest, "Maybe, because, he's not female and _doesn't_ have a reproduction chamber?"

"You could retrofit one! You're a good medic!" Elita insisted.

Ratchet watched her expression. The femme was really scared. He dropped his hands and moved to stand next to her head, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "You won't feel any pain or discomfort, Elita. This I promise. I know it's hard, but try to relax. Optimus is here. He's not going anywhere."

Elita's anxious optics swivelled from the medic to her huge mate, "O-okay."

Optimus held her hand with both of his own, covering it entirely and murmuring reassuring words to her as Ratchet waited while Elita's chestplates slid back. Once clear, he checked over the casing of the sparkling's chamber, then used a slim humming tool to make an edge to it and open the translucent metal.

Elita whimpered, screwing up her face.

Ratchet paused, arching an optic ridge, "Any pain? Do you feel anything?"

"No, just... just the movement of air over the chamber, I think. It's strange, but not painful."

"Good." Ratchet smiled at her, then proceeded to open the chamber completely. The small spark inside pulsed at him. It was ready to go. With careful hands and moving slowly, Ratchet's agile tender fingers cradled the spark and lifted it up out of the casing.

"Here we go." He let the parents have a quick look at the little spark in his hands. The spark had it's own miniature containment field once it sensed the loss of the chamber. It was glowing blue, but swirling slashes of purple and green crossed over the spark's hemisphere.

Elita looked stunned. Optimus was awestruck. He couldn't look away. He'd never seen anything like it. He almost lost his balance when he strained to keep track of it as Ratchet turned to the next bench over and slid the spark carefully into the open waiting chest of the protoform. There was a bright flash. Ratchet yelped, yanking his hands back.

"...Bit of a shock there," he smiled weakly at the new parents, shaking his aching hand. "Forgot about that. Little slagger packs a punch."

But Optimus and Elita weren't watching him or listening to his commentary - the protoform was starting to _move_. The open chestplates on the small body were gently closed by Ratchet. The optics on the face remained dark but the arms and legs twitched; shuddered; and started to lift up and down in random patterns.

Elita gasped and cried out, trying to throw herself off the medbay table to get to her sparkling.

"Whoa! No, no, you can't move 'Lita! Wait!" Optimus held her back with one heavy arm over her shoulders. Her chestplates were open, her inner parts were exposed, she shouldn't be trying to move. "I know you want to see him, I want to see him, but please wait! Ratchet?!"

Ratchet – keeping one optic on the tiny new sparkling and running sweeping scans over it's awakening body – smiled at them, "Optimus, amazingly, you are correct." He paused for effect. Optimus stared at the medic with huge optics. Elita whimpered, one hand reaching out. Ratchet grinned, "You have a little mech."

"... a mech?" Optimus murmured in awe. "He's a... mech? Male?"

Ratchet nodded. "Yes. His programming confirms it. Completely male."

A choking noise came from Elita. She clutched at Optimus' hand and held it to her face, shaking. Happiness overwhelmed her spark. She couldn't speak. And she couldn't have thought what to say if she did. Pure happiness didn't require words.

Quickly, Ratchet raised a containment field on the bench the mech sparkling lay upon so he wouldn't roll off, then raced to attend to Elita before the femme glitched herself up. He sealed up her reproduction chamber, closed her chestplates, and helped her to sit up, Optimus supporting her on one side while he helped on the other.

Slowly, the trio approached the slumbering sparkling. They halted next to the bench and watched as the minuscule mech kept moving his appendages in short waving sweeps through the air. Then, with Optimus and Elita leaning over their newly produced sparkling, the optics of the sparkling flashed on for the first time. His movements ceased. His hands curled into his chest and his feet kicked into his abdomen, bright optics roving over the faces above him.

He giggled.

Elita squeaked and held her hands to her mouthplates. She couldn't take her optics off her son. Optimus was holding onto her so tightly from behind that her armor creaked from the strain.

Before anyone could express their thoughts, a long inquisitive stream of clicks and whistles came from the sparkling.

"He talks?!" Optimus Prime couldn't hold back his wonder.

Elita tilted her head back to lock optics with him, "_Sabre_ talks."

"Sabre?" Ratchet questioned. "That is his name?"

"Yes." Optimus tentatively reached down a huge hand and held out a finger to his sparkling. "Sabre."

Sabre seemed to go cross-eyed looking at the blunt object being held in front of his face. One small hand reached up bravely. He touched the finger of his father.

... then jerked his hand back, looking startled and afraid.

"Aww, hey, hey, it's okay. Here," Elita cooed at him, and after looking at Ratchet for the 'okay', she slowly slid a hand under the back of her son as Ratchet deactivated the containment field. Her other hand cupped his pint-sized aft and she lifted him slowly from the table to hold him in her arms. Sabre pulled into himself for a moment, optics scared. He blinked tiny optic sweepers over his optics, hiccuped, then smiled up at his female progenitor and relaxed, recognising her friendly spark signature. Mom.

Ratchet made a sniffling noise. Optimus coughed.

Sabre's head moved from looking up at Elita holding him to glance curiously at the other bot peering down at him. He seemed to think seriously for a second, looking very thoughtful, then launched a volley of clicks at his father.

Optimus froze. He looked to Ratchet anxiously. "What do I say?!"

The medic laughed, snickering. "Anything you want to, Optimus. Anything. Hello would be a good start."

The Autobot Commander stared down at his sparkling. "... Hello Sabre."

A happy click and squeal came back at him.

"Did you see that?! Did you? He likes me!" There had never been a bigger grin on Prime's face.

As Sabre rested comfortably in her arms, Elita rocked him gently and looked up at Ratchet, "When does he get some color?"

"When he sees a color he likes, he'll change his exterior. It's his choice." Ratchet paused, "I, uh, better tell you about the modification I did."

Optimus was busy holding another finger out to Sabre, hoping the little bot would take it. Nope. The new mech hid his face under the crook of Elita's arm. A tiny whimper escaped from him, intense blue optics like his sire's blazing from under the shadow cast by Elita's arm.

"Optimus, leave him be," Elita chided him. "He's not ready for that yet."

Prime sighed, disappointed and angry at himself for scaring his sparkling, "Okay. I just thought... he might grasp it. He might want something to hold onto. Do you think I could... Oh! Hang on." Optimus moved around so he was behind the sparkling. Then he ever so slowly and gently touched his son's head from behind, where he wouldn't see it coming at him and get worried. He stroked his son's head carefully.

Sabre looked puzzled. He lifted his head from Elita's arm and looked around. The movement on his head was nice. Ratchet opened his mouthplates to explain about his 'modification' but went silent.

...Sabre was _purring_.

Little optics closed over and went dark, hands clenched into fists and rested on his chest. He kicked out with one leg into the air. Then fell into his first ever recharge cycle. Snoozing.

Optimus looked scarily triumphant. "I knew it. See?" His optics dimmed happily, staring down at Sabre. "He's so cute."

Elita nodded in agreement, all choked up. She bent down and brushed her mouthplates over his forehead. "Welcome home, Sabre."

**NEXT:** Elita tries to get Optimus to hold Sabre, but the huge Commander is terrified of crushing him. The other Autobots are introduced to their new (under-aged) recruit. And Ratchet explains his sparkling 'modification', or rather, Sabre does!


	7. Chapter 7

**Scent of the Future**

Authors Note: This chapter doesn't live up to the promise of the previous chapter, sorry. I'm struggling to keep this going, even though I have LOTS of evil ideas roaming around my sick little brain.

I discovered the term 'mechling' in the fanfic 'A Fighting Heart' by **Canti Sixx **and thought it was a brilliant description of a male sparkling (a combination of 'mech' and 'sparkling'), so that word belongs to her. She's a good writer too, go and look up her fanfics!

**Chapter 7**

"Primus above... I don't know what to say. I'm crap at words." Ironhide roved his optics over the tiny sparkling in Elita One's arms. "He's a small critter. You said the first thing he did was laugh?"

"Yes, yes, amazing, really." Optimus stood next to Elita. He was watching the sleeping sparkling as closely as Ironhide was. He and Elita had decided to introduce their progeny to Ironhide first, since he'd already discovered their secret. They hadn't yet left Ratchet's medbay, having decided there was no reason not to begin the introductions immediately, since Sabre had fallen into a very deep recharge.

According to the CMO (an absolute hoarder of knowledge about sparklings) the tiny tyke would be recharging for another two Earth hours yet; he needed to charge up his batteries (so to speak) before he could take his first curious look at the world. It wouldn't worry him to have other 'bot's peering down at him while he slept. He'd be clueless.

Things would be different once he woke up...

"Just shows what his view of the world is already," Elita rolled her optics in mock irritation, then grinned at Sabre, "Laugh at it."

Ratchet smirked, crossing his arms and leaning against the very bench Elita had been lying on one hour earlier, "Wise."

"Yeah, smart," Ironhide scratched at his head, his cannon's creaking.

"Alright," Ratchet clapped his hands together, looking at Optimus and Elita by turn, "you want me and 'Hide to gather the rest of the troops together now?"

Optimus slowly nodded, still not able to take his optics off his son for more than a moment or two. "Please."

"Ratchet, please make sure they understand not to make a lot of noise?" Elita asked worriedly, her arms encircling Sabre protectively. "I mean, they can go OUTSIDE and make noise, just not in the same room as Sabre."

Ironhide shared a glance with Ratchet. "Oh, we'll drum that into them pretty good," the black mech grinned. The pair turned to leave the room – Elita's soft touch on Ratchet's arm as he passed halted the medic.

"Ratchet..? Thank you. I mean that. Sabre is here because of you," she said softly.

Optimus lifted his head at Elita's words, "Yes, thank you Ratchet. You've given us a gift beyond measure."

Ratchet cracked a smile, earning himself a look of disbelief from Ironhide, "You don't owe me thanks, seeing a sparkling again is enough thanks, and in any case, you need to thank lugnuts here for keeping me out of your room so you could get the time to produce a sparkling."

While Optimus choked over Ratchet's crude but heartfelt words, Ratchet and Ironhide gathered the base into an impromptu meeting in the rec room, giving out stern instructions that they were all to stay extremely quiet; despite what they were about to see. Ironhide backed up Ratchet's words with threatening looks and hunched up shoulder plates.

Optimus entered the room slowly, his head uncharacteristically bowed down. The other Autobots watched with trepidation. His head lifted slightly, his optics roving over all the mech's gathered before him. All of them friends, comrades, and loyal soldiers. He let a grin settle over his face.

"Thank you all for coming together at such short notice. I have an announcement for you all today, news that I must ask you to accept as quietly as possible... or you may frighten him."

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe shared a look.

"HIM?" whispered Sunstreaker. Sideswipe shoved him in the shoulder, getting grumpy silence back in return. The yellow Lamborghini was merely upset that this news wasn't about a 'her'; in other words, a new femme landing.

"Autobots..." Optimus Prime's chest appeared to swell. "We have a new recruit in our ranks today. His name is Sabre." He paused. Expectant faces looked up at him. Optimus didn't need a platform to stand upon, his height was enough. "And he is a sparkling produced by Elita and I."

There as no response for a microsecond. Then the room burst into utter excitement and disbelief. All over the room, jaws fell open, optics widened and went on the fritz, and CPU's threatened to crash.

"SPARKLING?!" – Prowl, losing his calm exterior and glitching, one optic fizzing out.

"...Sparkling?" – Sunstreaker.

"Sparkling!!" – Sideswipe.

"Optimus has a sparkling?" - Bumblebee.

"I KNEW IT! Didn't I say so, didn't I?! I so did!" - Sunstreaker.

"... But I thought there would be no more of those?" – Bumblebee, again.

"Holy Primus..." - Prowl again.

"What was the name again? My CPU just glitched. Permanently. Prowl, whack me in the back of the head, would ya?" - Jazz.

"QUIET!" Ratchet hissed. Ironhide growled, adding his displeasure with one whirling cannon gyro. Despite the pairs demand for silence, the two elder 'bots looked the happiest any of the others had ever seen them.

Once the room had settled down again, the side door to the rec room opened. Elita One appeared. All optics strained to stare at the hardly visible bundle in her arms. The Femme Commander appeared shy, coming to stand close to her mate.

The mech's gathered in a loose circle around Elita. "Guys, this is Sabre. You're welcome to have a peek at him. No touching yet though. He's recharging." She smiled tenderly, "he's only a few Earth hours old."

Sideswipe strained to see, "Wow. So _small_."

"Yup," Jazz nodded, in awe, "small. And _cute_! It should be illegal to be that cute!"

A yellow blurr whizzed across the room.

::WHACK::

"OWWW!" Optimus held his arms out, gaping in shock at the yellow mass of mech hugging his right leg. "Oh. Heh. Hello Bumblebee." He patted the mech on the shoulder.

"He's beautiful, Optimus. Congratulations!" Bumblebee grinned wildly up at his Commander. "This is great! Can I sparkling sit? Can I?"

The Leader nodded, "Yes. It is. Thank you, Bumblebee. It means a lot to me that you're okay with this. Can you, er...?"

"OH!" Bumblebee let go and stepped back, looking sheepish. "Sorry."

"That's okay," Optimus chuckled, waving off his apology, "I expect that everyone will be put off kilter by this sudden surprise. And yes, we'd love you to, uh, 'sparkling sit' when we're busy. I couldn't think of anyone better."

Bumblebee practically glowed, nodding vigorously. Wait till he told Sam! The boy hadn't even met Elita yet, either. Talk about a double-whammy.

"I think that's enough now. Elita, you better take him to your quarters. You go too, Optimus. Spend some time with him. I'll come by and check on him in another hour." Ratchet made stern shooing motions at the goggle-optic mech's.

Optimus and Elita found it to be a relief once they'd reached their quarters. They needed time alone. Elita perched on the edge of the recharge berth, watching Sabre closely. He was beginning to wiggle a bit, but his optics were still off and closed over.

"Do you want to hold him?" Her optics looked up to her sparkmate.

::click, click, click::

"PRIMUS!" Elita gasped in shock, "He's awake!"

Small blue optics gazed up at her. Fingers opened and closed. Sabre's head turned to stare at the other bot in the room. He squealed and blinked at his father. He knew where his mother's spark was, and he could feel a faint connection to another spark, belonging, he reasoned, to the tall figure looking down at him. One sparkling arm lifted up towards Optimus.

Optimus Prime's spark almost melted away. He hadn't thought it was possible to feel so much love for another.

"He wants you to hold him," Elita cautiously patted the recharge berth, "Come and sit down. I'll transfer him over."

Optimus sat down but looked extremely nervous. "I don't think we should upset him, he looks comfortable-"

"Upset him?" The femme blinked, interrupting him. "He just wants you to hold him. Here, hold you arms out." She lifted up Sabre, preparing to transfer him.

She was shocked when her mate flinched away, looking disturbed. "Optimus?!"

Prime looked ashamed of himself, "... I can't! I'll hurt him, I'm too strong, you keep him, 'Lita. Please, he's too small, I'll crush him or something."

Sabre's mouthplates began to tremble. He could discern worry and fear coming from the other bot. He sniffled, and clicked sorrowfully at his mother.

"It's okay Sabre, Optimus is just being a big boofhead. Of course he can hold you." Elita kicked her foot sideways into Prime's lower leg. "Stop being silly, you WILL NOT hurt him."

"I will! And I don't wish to! You don't understand, 'Lita." Prime cringed away. "I've got too much strength, it's not easy to gauge how much pressure to use. I'll crush him or drop him."

"Oh, for Primus' sake." The femme stood up in front of the worried mech. "Here, then," she gently placed Sabre on the recharge bed, sitting him on his aft. The sparkling's optics were wide and he looked around curiously. "Stand up," she commanded her mech.

Optimus stood, beginning to word a protest. "-But, no, I can't-"

"No buts," she scolded him, "Now, hold your hands out, like this." Elita cupped her hands together as if she wanted to scoop water.

"Okay," Optimus said nervously. "But I don't think-"

"I _said_ no buts." The femme lifted up Sabre and started to place him in Prime's cupped hands. Optimus froze. He was sure that Elita was making a mistake.

Sabre was propped up in the hollow of his hands, one of Elita's hands behind his shoulders keeping him stable enough to sit. Sabre's head leant back. His optics looked right up at a fearful Optimus.

...then a bunch of shrieking giggles came from the tiny mech. He twittered away, laughing at whatever he found so hysterical. His hands patted enthusiastically at Optimus' far bigger hands encircling him.

Optimus stared at Sabre. _What on Cybertron is so funny?!_

Elita One chuckled, "Y'know, I think he likes you. You're good entertainment, obviously."

"I've always thought that," came a dry voice. Ratchet came up behind Elita, standing and watching the sparkling happily chirrup away in his father's hands.

"Ratchet, do you know what most bots are liking to do before they enter a room?" Elita chided him, shaking her head.

The CMO gave her a droll look. "Opening the door?"

"_Knocking_, numb nuts."

"Oh yes. My apologies. Now then," Ratchet held his hands out to Sabre, peering questioningly at his parents. Optimus extended his arms, holding the little mech out to the medic. Ratchet plucked up the mechling easily. Optimus sighed, relieved. "I think it's time to show you what Sabre can do." He put him down gently on the floor. Sabre squeaked. He couldn't see anything from down here! He grumped to himself and scowled at the floor. Why did they take him away from the big funny mech?

"Please do not be alarmed. This is for his safety and protection." Ratchet said.

"What?" Elita's optics narrowed. The medic was going along too fast for her liking. "Explain, please!"

"I am," Ratchet gave her a firm look. "Most sparklings back home never had a transformation or any type of external protection against unwanted attacks." He paused. "Sabre has both."

"He _what_?" Elita demanded. "He better not have guns, or missiles or anything, Ratchet." She could picture them coming to the point where they had to say 'No' to Sabre for the first time and having him get angry, and shove a cannon in their faces. Talk about a miniature Ironhide... ouch...

"I second that," Optimus rumbled, crossing his arms over his immense chest. He didn't have a clue where Ratchet was going with this. He had some other questions to ask the medic, too. Like, if he and Elita interfaced or spark-merged again, would they get another sparkling? Why had it happened with Sabre when they hadn't instructed their programs to create a sparkling? He really didn't want to be intimate with his sparkmate every night and have a new sparkling come morning. That would be ridiculous.

"No, he has no weapons, of course he wouldn't, I'm not THAT clueless." Ratchet shook his head as he lifted his right arm and tapped a few buttons.

There was a humming noise and Sabre squealed. Abruptly, his form shuddered and moved so he was lying on his chest. Then a pair of small wheels popped out from his hips and shoulders, lifting the mechling up to be on wheels only. Sabre's head was swivelling this way and that, surprised to find himself in a changed form. By tucking his arms up to his chest, he had free movement to roll backwards and forwards. His legs were secured safely up against his abdomen.

A few more typed commands from Ratchet's end, and Sabre was moving slowly around the room. The sparkling didn't appear to mind too much. He chittered happily away.

"Sabre has wheels?!" Elita One watched, flabbergasted.

"Yes," Ratchet nodded, "This is the modification I've been trying to tell you about. He has a top speed of at least sixty miles per hour, I think. And a self-guiding computer to avoid smashing into obstacles."

Optimus Prime was enraptured. He could see the point Ratchet was getting at. Sabre would never be able to run, or even walk, fast enough to get away from a threatening situation. With wheels, he had more of a chance.

Sabre came back to them, halting with a tiny grunt in front of his parents. He wriggled, trying to get going again, rocking back and forth. Ratchet denied him, keeping the brakes locked up. Sabre was not allowed to have control of his wheels, just yet. That was for an adult to do.

Ratchet smiled with satisfaction as one final 'modification' appeared. Small blast shields popped up on Sabre's sides, back, and aft. Crude, but effective. Ratchet caused the wheels and armor to retract, leaving Sabre lying on his front as his normal self once more. Sabre rolled over kicking his legs in the air happily. That had been fun!

"Ratchet..." Elita growled, stalking over to get in Ratchet's face.

"Uh, yes?"

"I hope you don't expect Sabre to be participating in battles like that."

Ratchet backed up, holding his hands up in surrender, "No, no! This is for emergencies only! I will transfer control of his extra facilities to you and Optimus. If the worst should happen, at least he was some protection, and a means to get away." The medic's optics dimmed sadly, remembering the slaughter of the innocent new 'bots on Cybertron, "Unlike the sparklings back home... they had nothing."

Optimus raised his head from examining Sabre on the floor, "Elita, Ratchet is correct. He has done the right thing. His forethought is much appreciated."

"Huh." Elita grumped, crossing her arms. "Perhaps."

"How repellent are those shields?" Optimus enquired of the medic.

"Thick, they're Cybertronian alloy. I had a few scraps left over in my subspace pocket..." Ratchet drawled on, explaining what he'd done and how'd he done it.

Unbeknownst to the momentarily distracted three bots, Sabre was getting bored on the floor. He looked at the legs nearest to him. He clicked to himself and crawled over to them. One small hand patted the red and blue foot.

No reaction.

Sabre looked up. It was a long, LONG way up there. Concentrating, he got his hands into a good position, made sure of his hand holds in the armor – and scrambled at top speed all the way up, climbing quickly.

"What the..?!" Optimus Prime looked behind him. Sabre's head popped up over his shoulder. He squeaked a 'Hello!', looking delighted with himself.

"Sabre! Holy Primus, how did you do that?" Elita rushed around to Optimus, getting her hands around Sabre's midsection and trying to lift him off. Sabre clicked angrily, holding on tight to his father's shoulder. "Sabre, let go, you shouldn't be doing that!"

Ratchet snickered, "Don't worry Elita, he's quite safe. Sparklings love to climb things."

"I'm not a thing!" Optimus protested weakly. He wasn't angry though. His head turned to look into the curious optics of his sparkling. Sabre cocked his head and clicked at him. He went to climb onto Optimus' head. "Oh no, no, no! That's far enough." Optimus laughed, using his fingers to keep Sabre's hands off his head.

"Here," Elita took advantage of Sabre's hands being free and reached up, removing him from her sparkmate's shoulder. Sabre warbled sadly. He liked it up there, lots to see! She smiled at him, "Cheer up little one. You know what? I think Ratchet hasn't had a chance to hold you yet."

Ratchet blinked. "Uh... t-that's okay."

"I insist," Elita smirked, holding out Sabre. The sparkling squealed, putting one finger in his mouth and chewing on it while he studied the new bot he was being introduced to. "Please?"

Gingerly, Ratchet held out his hands. Elita carefully placed Sabre into them. The medic's five-fingered delicate hands cradled the sparkling gently. Sabre wobbled, his face looked scared. Ratchet quickly held him against his chest to make him feel safer. The mechling clicked happily, one hand reached up and explored the metal he was leaning on, patting and probing. He put his head behind Ratchet's prominent Hummer bullbar and made a happy noise of discovery, looking around underneath.

Optimus chuckled, putting his hands behind his back casually and watching the medic stare in wonder at the sparkling in his arms. "You better get used to that, Sabre. With Ratchet around, you're going to be the best looked after sparkling in history. You'll be scanned, monitored, and tested so often you'll learn to disappear better than Bumblebee."

Ratchet didn't respond. He was busy staring down at the new life in his arms. Sabre was a gorgeous little bot. Ratchet had no doubt the tiny tyke had a super slick CPU hiding away in there, just like his progenitors. Optimus and Elita had no idea what a battle it was going to be when Sabre grew got older and learned to use his sharp intellect for his own desires.

"Welcome to the Autobots, Sabre." Ratchet announced formally. He looked back up and caught Elita giving Optimus Prime a loving wet look. The medic smiled internally. It was so nice to have some happiness at last.

**NEXT: Prowl puts speed camera's in the hallways out of desperation. And Sabre meets his first humans. **


	8. Chapter 8

**Scent of the Future**

Authors Note: **plunger02** has told me that Sabre is a 'remote control car' with his wheels (Ratchet's modification to his sparkling body). He is too! I completely missed that interpretation. Nice one! Thanks. Just, nobody give Sunstreaker the controls, poor Sabre would be doing endless burnouts and donuts. Or be entered into the Indy 500.

**Chapter 8**

_Two weeks after Sabre's arrival... early morning..._

Sabre stood on his tippy-toes and peeked over the top of his special recharge berth, looking at Optimus Prime and Elita One. Neither of them were on-line. His sire was lying on his back, while his mother was lying on her side next to him, her head snuggled on his arm. The mechling grumpily sat back down onto his aft with a thump. He wanted to get up and be _doing_ things. Waiting wasn't something he loved very much.

Sabre's bed was a cushioned oblong box positioned at the end of his parents much larger recharge berth. While Elita often coo-ed him into recharge while holding him close to her body, he was not allowed to recharge with them physically. Optimus was terrified of rolling on top of him (squashed sparklings were the subject of his nightmares), and Elita didn't think it was such a great idea either. Even her slight form was a danger to a tiny sparkling. They made extra time to allow Sabre to at least once a day snuggle up with them on the big berth and take naps, but not while both of them were off-line. It was too risky.

Sabre reached down to the end of his berth and picked up his new friend – the largest teddy bear Sam Witwicky could find (and sent via UPS as the sparkling's first ever present. Sam was at university), as big as Sabre himself. It was brown, with a red ribbon around its neck. When Sabre had gotten over his fear of what the squishy thing was, he'd gotten too enthusiastic, and squeezed the bear hard enough that his tummy had burst open and showered a surprised Sabre with white bits of fluff.

The distressed sparkling had been cradled in his father's arms (Optimus had at last gotten over his terrible fear of hurting Sabre, and was now very good at carefully holding him – he'd gotten tired of being called a 'boofhead' and 'Commander Wimp' by Elita) while Ratchet sewed his teddy back together, all the time muttering softly about it being time to retire if his importance to the Autobot army amounted to him repairing injured 'teddy bears'.

Optimus had suggested putting a bandage on the newly repaired bear to show Sabre that his bear was all better now.

Ratchet had stared at him. Blinked. Quietly went into an adjacent room with sagging shoulders, closed the door – banged his head on an empty med bench, tossed around a few white-hot curses – then opened the door, came back in, fetched a small bandage, and covered the bear's sewed-up belly with it. Sabre had squealed with happiness, clicking and warbling happily at Ratchet, his hands holding onto his bear friend tightly.

Prime left the medbay, chuckling, with Sabre waving 'bye-bye' over his shoulder. Optimus had waited EONS to get back at the medic with something simple like that; score!

Sabre perked up when he heard noises coming from his parents. He dropped his bear, using both hands to hold onto the surrounding wall of his berth and peek over the top. He squealed happily. His dad was up!

"Morning Sabre," large hands scooped down into the small berth and plucked up the sparkling. Sabre giggled, kicked, clicked and warbled all at once. Sparkling overload.

Soft deep blue optics met small blazing ones, Optimus going optic-to-optic with the mechling dangling in the air, held under his armpits. The pair grinned at each other.

"Don't hold him like that... not dignified for our little Prince. Hello Sabby, sweetie." Elita was still curled up on the berth on her side, her face resting on one hand. Her optics blinked. She was intent on getting another half hour of recharge before her shift began.

Prime shifted Sabre to sit him down next to Elita. The femme smiled and reached out with one hand to stroke her sparkling. Sabre purred, rubbing his head into her hand, dimming his optics.

"Come on, Jazz is waiting for you, enough lovey stuff, we have to go," Optimus smoothly picked up Sabre again, this time settling the tyke onto his shoulder and supporting him with one hand so he wouldn't fall. His other hand carried Sabre's teddy. "And he has your energon intake ready for you, too." Sabre squealed clapping his hands. "Have a nice day, 'Lita..."

"You too. Oh! Don't forget we're meeting with Keller just after noon!" Elita called out, grinning. She would be meeting their official Earth Government liaison for the first time – and so was Sabre.

"Yes ma'am," Optimus flashed her a light smile over his shoulder. _How could I forget! Femmes. Organising everything and everyone down to the last microsecond. _He made short work of delivering Sabre and teddy to his caretaker for the morning, Jazz. The Co-Second-In-Command knew a few words of sparkling chatter, and was nattering away with his little buddy like old friends when Optimus departed. Optimus had a date with Ratchet...

Sabre paused in his 'talk' to stare at his father disappearing out the door. He whimpered, clicking sadly at Jazz with wide optics.

"Aww, c'mon, he'll be back. And Elita will be popping in to see you soon as well!" Jazz explained, holding Sabby in the crook of one arm while he fixed up 'breakfast' with another. Sabre chirped sadly. He didn't like it when he had to spend time away from his parents. His caretakers were good, and Optimus and Elita only disappeared for their duties for the morning, they managed to squash everything they had to do into the time between waking up, and noon, so the rest of the day and evening was spent with their sparkling.

Sabre couldn't walk. He could just manage taking wobbly steps by holding onto someone's hand and concentrating hard (Elita found it both hysterical and absolutely spark-warming to watch Optimus on his knees, holding Sabre's hands to support him while the sparkling tottered around in front of him, practising walking). Mostly he scrambled across the floor on all fours – and he was amazingly fast at doing that. Optimus Prime's second fear about his sparkling was now reality. The mechling didn't worry about getting trodden on, he dashed anywhere and everywhere he felt like. If a clueless big foot was coming down straight at his head he just stared at it with interest.

Ironhide had kindly informed Optimus he looked like a ditzy ballerina when he tip-toed around, staring at the floor with his arms held out for balance, while Sabre criss-crossed the floor like a monkey.

The Weapons Specialist was assigned only midnight shifts for all of the next week for that wise-crack. Ironhide felt it was worth it.

Ratchet predicted Sabre would be walking in another few months. His stabilisers and balance gyros were primitive but adequate. Like all new Transformers, he needed to learn how to control himself in this small body before he could progress to a bigger one.

Tinkering with some data-files, and sending information packets back and forth with Prowl, Jazz managed to get SOME work done while sparkling-sitting. Sabre was happy to sit and talk to his bear, or scramble around the rec room for exercise. Jazz wasn't aware of the plan in Sabre's head to escape and find his way back to his parents. His CPU was quick. Very quick. He knew that the fastest way to transport himself around was by using his wheels. But he wasn't allowed to control them.

He sat down on his aft, stumpy legs splayed out in front of him. Thinking. He reasoned that re-routing the control sequence would leave an open end to it, which could be picked up and manipulated by his own control processor, completely by-passing whoever was controlling it at the other end...

Jazz removed his attention from the vidscreen and looked back at Sabre, his audio's picking up the faint sounds of a transformation sequence, "Sabby? You okay... PRIMUS IN A PIT BUCKET!"

The spark in his chest felt like it had fizzled out. Sabre had transformed into his 'wheels' mode, and rocketed out the door with a delighted squeal of accomplishment. He took off so fast his teddy was left behind on the floor, tumbled end-over-end by the backdraft.

"SABRE!" Jazz shrieked, jumping up from his chair. _How the SLAG did the kid get his wheels out?!_ _There ain't no emergency!_

Sabre whistled and giggled with happiness. Now he could really get somewhere! He swerved all over the vacant hallway in crazy patterns like a drunk missile before he worked out how to steer himself. And he had to remember to keep his arms close to his chest or they dragged on the ground. His transformation computer had been programmed to stop him crashing, but it didn't help him to 'steer' to a destination. That was up to him.

Jazz sent out a frantic 'All Autobots' distress signal while he ran down the hallway::_SABRE IS LOOSE! SABRE IS LOOSE! HE HAS WHEELS AND HE KNOWS HOW TO USE THEM!:: _

"OPTIMUS! Turn off Sabre!" Jazz yelled into his communicator, sliding around the hallway turns by hanging onto the wall with one hand and pumping his legs to get back up to speed. Sabre had long since disappeared into the depths of the base. The kid was fast.

"I didn't turn him on!! He won't respond! Where is he going?! Why did he transform?" Prime's voice came back at him, distressed. "I'm heading your way!"

Ratchet had been exiting the medbay, a few datapads in one hand, his head bowed as he reviewed them when Sabre tore past him.

"WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeee!" Sabre rocketed past the medic, just missing hitting his feet by microinches.

Ratchet's mouthplates gaped, "Sabre?! What the..." The medic took microseconds to activate his communicator, "SPARKLING SIGHTED IN THE WEST-END SECTION! HEADING NORTH!" he yelled.

"On it." Prowl's voice was cool, un-hurried, but very determined. He had already sent out multiple orders to have all of the hallways blocked, all exits/entrances to the base closed down, and every security camera was delivering live feeds straight to his CPU.

The east wing was quiet, only Ironhide occupied it, leaning over a large table and dismantling his latest weapons project gone wrong.

There was a rush of air between his legs, and a happy scream.

Ironhide's head jerked up. "Huh?" He swung around, seeing Sabre's aft on wheels whooshing out the door after racing between his legs. "Sabre?!" He took off after the mechling.

Defence Secretary Keller was waiting patiently in the foremost hanger with his small team of men. He could hear shouts, yells, and hurried metal-on-metal commotion. Not having visited the Autobots very often, he wasn't sure if all this disarray was normal, or if there really was a crisis.

Jazz (the small silver resurrected robot) pounded past them in an adjacent corridor, waving his arms like a maniac, and screaming, "He's coming! He's coming! Block the exit, for Primus' sake!"

Keller squinted, scratching at his chin. Oh. Must be normal then. His men nervously fingered the guns in their armpits.

Sabre's wheels mode raced past the room, he hit his brakes and spun around expertly (seeing the mass of mech's waiting for him at the exit) and accelerated into the hanger occupied by Keller and his men. Sabre went far too close to Keller, and just managed to clip his right foot with one wheel.

"OWWW! SHIT! Owwww! What the... oWWW!" Keller hopped up and down on his remaining un-injured foot, holding his hurt foot tenderly.

The bodyguards went into high alert mode, plucking out their guns and surrounding Keller. The SecDef continued to curse and hop.

"What IS that thing?!", one gun-toting suit yelled nervously, tracking the small object with wheels gunning it around the hanger.

"SABRE!" Optimus Prime's long legs brought him striding into the hanger, his optics flickering between Sabre racing around and Keller standing in disbelief and watching the entire mess with wearied incredulity.

"Don't shoot at him!" Prime commanded the armed humans. "Sabre, _stop_!"

"I second that! No shooting! Stand down!" Keller sternly directed his trigger-happy men, wincing over his foot. The suits all looked at each other, and slowly slid their guns back into their holsters.

Sabre, having caught sight of his huge father, squeaked, turned in his direction, and accelerated straight at him. Optics wide, Optimus crouched on bent legs, ready for anything. At the last moment, Sabre retracted his wheels and went flying through the air – his momentum carried him right into his father's waiting arms – and sent Optimus past his balance point, crashing down onto his back, his arms full of excited sparkling.

"Optimus?! Sabre?!" Elita One ran into the room, and came up short. Optimus was lying on his back with the mechling on his chest. Sabre was sitting up and chattering excitedly, waving his arms with squeaks and clicks.

The rest of the base clattered into the hanger, all staring at their Commander on the floor with Sabre on his front, tapping his father's nose with one curious finger, while Keller had his hand on one of his men's shoulder and was keeping his weight off his sore appendage.

"Holy Primus..." Ratchet surveyed the room. Keller had removed his shoe and was examining his foot for damage. Optimus was getting to his feet, carrying an over-excited Sabre.

"Ratchet, please scan Mr Keller's foot for serious injury and get him treated," Prime batted away Sabre's grabby hands trying to pat his face. "And as for you; little grease spot; how on Cybertron did you get control of your wheels?!"

Sabre made 'vroom, vroom' noises, giggling.

"Hang on, wait, wait," Keller waved away Ratchet's concerned probing, "is THAT what we've come here to see?" the man asked, pointing at the sparkling in Optimus' arms.

"Yes, but that's not all." Optimus slowly got down onto one knee in front of the man, "Another protoform landed as well." Elita came up behind him, her arms crossed, watching her sparkmate and sparkling. "Sir, may I introduce Elita One, my sparkmate."

Elita One inclined her head, smiling faintly, "Pleased to met you."

"Hello, and uh, Sparkmate?" Keller's eyes stared shrewdly up at the small-sized rose-colored robot. "What is that?

Prime cocked his head. Sabre clicked. "She is like what your culture would refer to as my 'wife', although our bond goes much deeper than that."

"SHE?" Keller's eyebrow's rose up, "A girl?" Come to think of it, the robot did appear very feminine. Curves, red-ish coloring, female face.

"I am what is called a femme, actually." Elita interjected. "Female."

"...now I've seen everything," the SecDef murmured, amazed.

"And this little hazard on wheels is our sparkling. Sabre." Optimus carefully held Sabre in both his hands and lowered the mechling for Keller to look at. "I apologise profusely for his behaviour. He didn't know what he was doing. He's only two weeks old. Still learning." Sabre stared at the human with as much fascinated interest as the man was showing him in return.

"A... what? Excuse me? You've got a... a... baby?"

"Yes we do," Elita nodded, "We didn't expect it to happen so soon. It's as much a surprise for us as it is to you." She gently took Sabre from his father's arms, scolding him quietly. Sabre's mouthplates drooped and he sniffled. He knew he was in trouble.

"Oh. Well then. Very good. Nice to, er, meet you all." Keller didn't dare ask HOW robots produced babies. His job description only went so far. He started to limp off, Ratchet chasing after him and making protests about his injured foot.

"Fifty-three miles per hour! Fifty-three!" Sunstreaker said to Sideswipe in disbelief. "He doesn't even have a proper engine! And did you see those turns he made? Wow!"

Prowl scowled, crossing his arms. "There is a speed limit in the hallways. Sabre broke it by thirty-eight miles per hour."

Jazz cocked an optic ridge, "Going to install speed cameras now, are you?"

Prowl harrumphed. "Might be a good idea..."

"Man, you need some time off, y'know? A vacation." Jazz patted his taller friend on the shoulder.

Optimus Prime gazed at them all, then turned disappointed optics on his sparkling. Sabre blinked innocently at him from Elita's arms. "You can't explain to me how you over-rode the control systems on your wheels, can you?"

Sabre chirped, waving his arms.

"I think that's either a 'no' or 'I will not incriminate myself and I want a lawyer'," Elita interpreted for Optimus with amusement. "Go easy on him, Optimus. I'm sure he didn't understand the ramifications of what he was doing."

"Mmm." Prime, propped his fists on his hips, looking down at the floor. "We are fortunate that the only injury sustained was Mr Kellers sore foot. It could have been much worse."

The expression on Sabre's small face was completely innocent and wide-eyed. Then he did an exhaust burp, letting his opinion of the situation made clear. The mechling clapped his hands, amused.

"Oh Primus... I knew that was coming... eeeuw..." Elita scrunched up her noseplates at the offensive smell. She looked up accusingly at Optimus Prime, "He is definitely your son."

Optimus cringed. "Opps."

Ironhide walked up to them, snickering, "Yeah. That familiar aroma has Prime's name all over it."

"OPTIMUS!" Jazz cried, backing away from them with his hands over his noseplates. Prowl looked like he wanted to do the same, and he struggled to maintain his decorum, despite the smell.

"I didn't do it! It was him!" Optimus pointed an accusing finger at Sabre.

Ratchet smacked him lightly in the back of the head, "Don't go blaming innocent youngsters!"

"Ugh," Prime's hands covered his face. Sabre found that hilarious and began shrieking with laughter.


	9. Chapter 9

**Scent of the Future**

Authors Note: Thank you to all my readers for all the kind words and sweet reviews I've been getting lately. My internet connection has been down for four days (damn Earthlink!) so I haven't been reviewing new fics or replying to my own reviews. I must get cracking and start replying! Busy, busy...

**Chapter 9 **

**Prime and Elita's quarters...**

The wheels of Sabre's 'transport' mode clicked over slowly. Very slowly. Much too slowly for Sabre's tastes. He was moving around the room with the grumpiest expression on his face. While he had been able to keep his wheels, his speed had been limited to somewhere between 'slow' and 'very slow'. They'd taken his fun away. He couldn't speed anymore.

Sabre was not impressed. Sabre cranky.

Elita One giggled into one hand, then pivoted on her feet away from Sabre, trying to cover up her mirth. She couldn't _not _laugh. Her mechling looked so pissed off.

Optimus Prime looked heavenwards and shook his head. "Elita..."

"I know, I know, pfffft!" The femme kept chuckling, despite trying not to, "He just looks so annoyed. I haven't seen that many sparklings, but I've never seen a sparkling look so like wanting to hurt someone."

"Uh, yes. You're right..." a faint smirk appeared on Prime's face as he watched his angry sparkling. Sabre was _glaring_. "I wonder who he got that from?"

"The same place he learnt to do smelly exhaust notes from." Elita poked a finger into her sparkmates side, "You."

"Hey!" The affronted Autobot Leader sent his own 'glare' to his mate.

Elita waved him off, "Ah, don't worry. It's a very mech thing to do anyway, I'm sure he'd be doing it no matter who his male progenitor was."

By now Sabre had dropped his arms down to the floor and was attempting to PULL himself along faster, getting his fingers into the plated flooring and tugging hopefully. No joy. He growled, stopped, and retracted his wheels with a disappointed squeak, sitting on his aft and looking very depressed. His arms hung down listlessly. Mouthplates pouting. A complete cute little ball of annoyed-ness.

Elita One sighed, "Looks like we've got a speed freak on our hands."

"Don't look at me about that one! I don't speed!" Optimus held his hands palm out in surrender. "That's all you!"

"Humph. You'd speed if you were a Lamborghini. And you'd look _really_ good... wanna try it?" Elita waggled her optic ridges invitingly at him.

"No, femme! Primus almighty..."

"Damn. Struck out." Elita looked back down at her sparkling. He hadn't moved. Just one more thing he'd inherited from his sire – black depressive moods. "Aww, hey, see now, there's another way to be speeding and using wheels." She picked him up, cradling him in one arm. He looked up at her with wide droopy optics. "You haven't seen what we transform into yet, have you?"

Sabre cocked his head, chirruping. He didn't understand. More wheels? He didn't need more, he needed more SPEED, not more wheels.

"No speeding with the sparkling, Elita," Optimus chided her, knowing exactly where she was going with this.

"There won't be any speeding, I assure you, since he'll be riding in you," Elita announced mischievously, patting Sabre's back comfortingly. "He'll fit."

"What? How can he... oh. I understand." Optimus had to admit, he would love to be showing his sparkling what his new world looked like, from the safety of his cab. It was a good idea. "Well, okay. I just need to go talk with Ratchet first, I was interrupted yesterday by this little guys-" he reached out a finger and tickled Sabre's chest, getting him to shriek and giggle, "escape attempt."

Elita arched an optic ridge, surveying her mate, "You're talking with Ratchet?" She paused. "Voluntarily?"

"Yes I am," he pulled her into a hug, sparkling and all. Sabre clicked, swivelling his head. He was surrounded. Bright rose armor plating on one side, red and blue flames on the other. "We need to find out how to stop a sparkling from appearing whenever we spark-merge. We honestly don't know how we managed to get Sabre when neither of us instructed our programs to do so."

Sabre craned his head back to look up at his parents talking. He didn't have much room squashed between their chests. He chirped. No response. He huffed and put one small hand on each of their chests. And pushed. He had no effect on his sire's huge mass, it would've been a strain even for Ironhide to shove Optimus Prime backwards.

"What..." Optimus stared down at his sparkling trying his hardest to push them apart. He took a step back. Sabre huffed, satisfied.

Elita laughed, "I don't think he's fond of group hugs. Were we squashing you, little one?" She scratched under his chin with one finger.

Sabre clicked and closed his optic covers, purring lightly. His head started to sag down. He was falling into recharge. He shook it woozily.

"I think our little guy needs a recharge break. Why don't you go and see Ratchet, then when you come back we'll see about taking Sabre outside for a little while?" Elita suggested, holding Sabre up against her shoulder, the sparkling nestling his head in the space between her head and neck, snoozing. "He probably needs some energon too. Not too much, he might eject it up in your cabin."

Optimus smiled warmly at his sparkling, "He's so cute, anything he threw up would be just as cute." He could handle a little dribble on his seats. With one last loving pat on the head of his sparkling, he went to leave their quarters.

Elita shook her head, turning away and putting the snoozing Sabre in his recharge bed, "You don't know sparkling spew, Optimus..." she murmured affectionately at his departing aft. "But you will."

_**Ratchet's medbay...**_

"About time you turned up. I was just about to begin building another protoform sparkling frame. Thought you might have charged ahead with each other before consulting me about how NOT to produce a sparkling." Ratchet crossed his arms over his bullbar covered chest and leaned back against a bench, eyeing off his Commander. The medic's greenish-yellow armor glowed under the overhead lights, but his face was shadowed. While Ratchet wasn't strictly a pure military mech, he had enough power and bulk at his disposal to make any enemy think twice about trying to punch him out. And he did look intimidating right now...

Optimus Prime stood there somewhat timidly. He hadn't been looking forward to this. It was totally necessary, but embarrassing. He didn't dare spark-merge with Elita until they worked out what had happened the previous time they joined. Sparklings were not a _bad_ thing, of course, he just didn't want a new one popping up whenever he so much as looked at Elita sideways and felt horny.

"Uh..." Optimus lifted a hand to rub the back of this head, thinking slowly. "I believe you said previously that you knew why Sabre appeared?"

"Mmm," Ratchet raised an optic ridge, "I have several reasons why I think it happened. They are theories only. Hypothetical, really."

Optimus blinked. "Right."

Ratchet shook his head, taking a step forwards, "Sit, you look like you're waiting to be shot down."

"I feel like it..." Optimus muttered, gingerly taking a seat across the narrow bench from his CMO. He curled his legs up under the chair, cupping his hands together on the bench, head bowed.

Ratchet sighed, smirking. How such a huge, brave, and handsome mech could be nervous discussing reproduction theories was beyond him. He would've expected Bumblebee to act like this, but not Optimus. He was an experienced male. Calm, steady, mature - what was the problem?

"I think I'm asking the obvious here, but I'll ask anyway. You only spark-merged with Elita once, yes? Since she arrived here, I mean." Ratchet asked.

Optimus gave a brief nod, "Yes. Just once. It was..." the mech looked up, appearing thoughtful, optics narrowed, "Very intense. Almost out of control, I'd say."

"And then; lightning? The electricity crackles?" Ratchet prompted. Talking with Optimus briefly before, the mech had mentioned arcing spark energy roaming up and down their joined bodies.

"Yes."

"Like the Earthlings say, 'the Earth moved'?"

"_What_?"

"Nevermind. Do you often get lightning during a merge?"

"No..."

"Did it hurt?"

"No." Prime's aristocratic face looked very unsettled. He felt very self-conscious.

"Have you seen it happen before?" Ratchet leaned forward, very intent on Prime's answers. Sparkmerging was a science that had not been studied enough, in Ratchet's opinion.

Optimus stared at the table, shifting awkwardly in his seat and avoiding Ratchet's assessing gaze. "Yes."

"Often, before?"

"No."

"Stop giving me one word, yes or no, answers, slag it!" Ratchet growled, getting irritated.

Prime winced. "Sorry." Pause. "Oh, uh, that was one word, wasn't it?"

Ratchet rubbed one hand over his forehead and sighed. "I apologise, I will try to keep my temper in the face of indignity and wanton humping mech's."

Optimus drew himself up, offended, "Now listen here-"

"Shut. It."

"...Okay." Prime's shoulders drooped.

"Right. Let's go over everything you two did, or have done, since you; er; got together here on Earth." Ratchet put his best medical face on and turned serious, trying to be not so cranky. Optimus would have to be a lot more forthcoming if the CMO was to piece together what had happened to result in Sabre popping into existence.

"Everything?" Optimus winced, looking away from the medic.

"Hey, I don't want to know who-put-who's hand-where-on-what-bit; oh, wait, yes I do," Ratchet put a hand on his chin thoughtfully, tapping his fingers. "Perhaps we should include Elita in this discussion-"

Optimus looked like he was going to forcibly expel his breakfast energon onto the table. "Forget that idea!", he spluttered. Elita would not hesitate to draw her rifle and shoot Ratchet if he asked the kind of questions Optimus was worried about.

Ratchet cracked a grin, "Of course. The Femme Commander is not as _relaxed_ about these things as you are."

Prime stared at him. His chair creaked. Yep, one relaxed Autobot Leader discussing the 'nuts & bolts' of love and sparkling production.

"I think we better get down to the essentials. Interfacing is safe, as always, nothing ever happens with that. Spark-merging... I can't say for sure you won't end up with another sparkling. Did Elita touch the back of your spark casing?" Ratchet's optics were focused dead straight on Optimus' own.

"Uh," Optimus frowned, his CPU burrowing through his memory module. He had positioned Elita on his chest, their chestplates were open, he could see her rose-colored armor in tantalising detail... each curve, every caress she made... she had been rubbing his shoulder, then her hand... "Yes! She cupped it in her palm."

Ratchet rested his chin in one hand, "Yep. Optimus, sparkling theory says touching the back casing of the spark of either participant can start the sparkling protocols running."

"I know! But-"

The medic help up a hand, "Yes, yes, it's rare, I know, it's less than seven percent success rate that way, but it's one of those things we prefer you to NOT do. Look, combined with the fact you two have been apart for eons..." the mech shook his head, pausing. "There is one other thing. Females respond to the actions of their spark-bonded partner. Who normally takes charge when you spark-merge?"

Optimus' optic covers blinked, "What do you mean?"

"Who is the dominant partner in your relationship, you or Elita?"

Prime looked down at the table, silent, his enormous body motionless.

Ratchet sympathised with him, giving him time to think over how to phrase his answer. While he knew Elita usually called the shots in her relationship with Prime, he had no idea who was the dominant one on their recharge berth. This would make a huge difference to their sparkling production ability. Elita might be a shy little poppet when it came to spark-merging, despite her ferocious and domineering persona, or she may be a rampaging amazon who threw Optimus around and told him what to do.

Optimus' words came quietly as he started to put a response together for Ratchet's question, "Normally, she is dominant. I'm not afraid to admit that."

"Yes," Ratchet nodded. "Of course."

"On the night Sabre came into existence, I was... we were... I mean, I..." Optimus ground to a halt. How on Cybertron was he going to explain that he had been forcefully demanding of Elita? That he had playfully pinned her up against the wall until she admitted she was owned by him? Then stretched her out on their berth with his hands pinning hers so she couldn't fight back while he pleasured her? It had all been play-acting! Elita had even been giggling, and revving him up, but how could he ever make Ratchet understand they had been trying out a scenario that would never happen for real? Would Ratchet think he was an abusive, femme-bashing tyrant?

Optimus' head was bowed, his optics dim, "Before I left to search for the Allspark, Elita confided that she would prefer it if I would start to take more control when we... you know. She wanted me to be more demanding; dominating her, I suppose." The mech smiled faintly, "I think she wanted more of a challenge between us. She was bored with being the one who called the shots. Frustrated. And I do admit, I was very submissive to her."

Ratchet kept himself quiet, not speaking. It would be best to allow Optimus to keep talking. Interrupting him may make him close up again.

"So I... was. I didn't give her room to think, or to push me away. I held her up, restrained her, made her admit she was mine." His head dipped even further. "Maybe I made the wrong choice."

"Ah..." Ratchet nodded. "There is the missing link. A femme who is made to submit to a dominant mech can cause her protocols to engage."

Optimus kept speaking. His faceplates were drawn down, looking morose. "The actual spark-merge wasn't forced though. She did all of that. I just lay still. I was only ordering her around for the beginning stages."

"Foreplay, Optimus. The humans call it foreplay. A nice term." Ratchet said, "Well, now we have the puzzle pieces. She touched the back of your spark, you both have been through a long period of absence from one another, and you swapped roles for the spark-merge – you became the dominant partner. The end product – Sabre."

The large mech didn't look all that convinced. He appeared scarily depressed with himself.

"Alright, that's it then. Problem solved. Don't touch the back of each other's spark, please let Elita go back to being the Commander of the recharge berth," he smirked, "And you are no longer absent from one another. I'd be very surprised if another sparkling arrived without you purposely activating your reproduction protocols." His optics twinkled. "You're safe to continue on with groping each other. Now shoo, I have work to do." The medic stood up waving Optimus on his way.

Optimus didn't budge from his chair. Even the 'groping each other' remark from Ratchet hadn't gotten a rise out him, he was still worried about how he had treated Elita. "But... wasn't I wrong to do that to Elita?"

"What? No. It is not uncommon for partners to do that, Optimus. She'd already asked you to take over more. That's what you did." Ratchet put his hands palm down on the table, leaning towards his Leader, "You didn't injure her or force her to spark-merge. It sounds like she played along with you. Go and ask her if you want to be reassured."

"Mmm." Optimus didn't look reassured. Nor did he feel convinced that he'd done the right thing with Elita when he arrived back at his quarters. Elita and Sabre were waiting for him, Sabre carefully finishing off the rest of his light energon refuel. His son was sitting in Elita's lap, patting her armor and making whistling sounds. Both looked up at his entrance.

"Everything go okay?" the femme asked. The expression on her beloved's face was rather ominous.

"Ratchet thinks we won't produce another sparkling by accident. I don't fully agree with him, but I understand his reasoning." His optics stared down at Sabre, watching him.

Sabre clapped his hands together, looking up the towering form of his sire. He reached out to him with grabby hands, wanting to be picked up. Optimus smoothly held his little body between two hands and lifted the mechling up, placing him behind his head, his short legs dangling over his shoulders. Prime's hands kept him stabilised while the sparkling found hand holds on his head armor. Sabre clicked and warbled, happy, swinging his legs up and down against Optimus' thick armor.

Elita surveyed her mate and sparkling. "That isn't what is bothering you," she said softly, standing up and brushing stray bits of dried energon off her lap. "Tell me." Her optics glowed softly up at him.

He looked away from her for a moment, "Did I hurt you when we merged? Before Sabre?"

"What?" Elita's optic ridges furrowed down, "No, of course you didn't. That's what I wanted you to do, remember? Back home? I asked you to be more forthright."

"But... I didn't mean to be so demanding. I held you up and wouldn't put you down until you said you were mine... " he trailed off unhappily. "I shouldn't have done that." He shook his head at himself unhappily.

"I know what this is about, you're upset and thinking you may have been too forceful. That you hurt me." The femme tilted her head at him, "You _didn't_. It was enjoyable to not be the one doing all the work for once. You almost made me self-implode with satisfaction." She reached a hand up to touch his cheek, Sabre playfully making grabs at her hand, "That was the best spark-merge I've ever enjoyed with you. And anyway," she smirked, "If I hadn't wanted to be co-erced, you would've been left alone on your aft with your arms torn off."

Optimus Prime's optics went wide. "Oh. Yes."

Sabre shrieked in victory when he grabbed his mother's hand off his father's faceplates, holding onto it.

Elita grinned, carefully tugged her hand free from Sabre's grip, making the mechling squeak with disappointment, and walked past her sparkmate, giving him a hard swat on the aft, "So stop beating yourself up about it. I loved it. It was just spark-play. Now, don't you want to take Sabre outside?"

"Yes..." He stared after the swaying aft of his enticing spark-mate, following her with long strides, feeling relieved but still guilty. "Or should I say 'Yes Ma'am?'," he said.

She looked at him over her shoulder, one optic winking, "If you like," she purred.

Sabre pounded his heels on his father's armor, making 'vroom, vroom' noises and trying to make him go faster. He was tired of talking, it was time to go outside and play!

**NEXT:** PASS THE BABY – The base mech's take turns holding Sabre for the first time, and Sabre gets a look at the outside world from his Dad's cab. And some new visitors turn up...


	10. Chapter 10

**Scent of the Future**

Authors note: I have deviated from what I said was 'Coming Soon' at the end of the last chapter. I've had to re-arrange the plot a bit to fit in what I had planned to do to get to the next plot point. Read on, see what you think!

**Chapter 10**

_**Autobot Base, Sabre's first outside expedition...**_

"Prowl?"

"Ready, Sir." The Second-In-Command transformed down into his Pontiac Firebird mode, revving his engine to check it before allowing it to idle smoothly.

"Jazz?"

"My man, where else would I be but helpin' ya out with Bossbot Junior?" Jazz's grin was wider than his ever-present visor. His clawed hands opened and flexed eagerly. This was going to be fun!

"Ahem. Thank you, Jazz. Bumblebee?"

The Camaro bounced up and down on his suspension, headlights flashing, his engine revving so hard his body trembled. Ready!

"Ironhide?"

The Weapons Specialist ran one hand soothingly over his left cannon, "I warmed these up this morning, they're ready to go. Any Decep aft gets in our way-"

-SMACK- "Language around the little one!" Elita One hissed. Sabre; held tightly in her arms; giggled and clapped his hands, whistling.

"Sorry." Ironhide poked a thick finger at Sabre, the sparkling taking it in both small hands, "Don't you say that now, Sabre. Ironhide says bad words sometimes. You don't have to repeat them. Not until you're a proper age, at least."

"Not even then!" Elita One glared, huffing.

"Excuse me? May I continue?" Optimus Prime said patiently, folding his arms and looking down at his bondmate and sparkling. He was trying to get this show on the road. Sabre chirped, waving his arms. "Thank you." The big mech turned to Ratchet and the Twins. "Ratchet, Lambo's; you're our back-up. Anything goes wrong, you're our last resort. If we're in deep-"

"LANGUAGE!" Elita screeched. Sabre winced and covered his little audio's with his hands.

Optimus put his hands on his hips, putting his shoulders back, "I was not going to say 'aft', Elita!"

"You just DID; Commander!" The femme growled. Her optics where practically flashing purple. While Sabre couldn't yet speak, his memory banks worked perfectly well. He could remember bad words, and put them to good use later on.

"Oh, good God, this is a circus. I'll be in the medbay... doing whatever needs doing. I don't know what..." Ratchet walked off, waving at the ragtag group. "Have fun, Sabre."

Sabre shot his short arm up and waved back.

"Alright, alright. Sorry." Optimus sighed, rubbing at his forehead with both hands. "I'm just a bit _nervous_ about this."

Sideswipe nudged his brother, "I think Ratchet requires a mess or prank to keep him busy if he's low on work. What say you?"

"Yeah." Sunstreaker nodded, beginning to smirk, "Optimus, call us if you need some properly trained warriors with real firepower to get you out of a tight spot, okay?" With that, the yellow Lambo stalked off, Sideswipe grinning and nearly skipping along at his heels.

Ironhide started to fit, "PROPERLY trained? REAL firepower? Why you little af-"

Elita subspaced her rifle and stuck it hard into the small of Ironhide's back, her other arm holding Sabre, who was blinking at his mother's weapon with wide curious optics.

"Oh, heh, was I going to say that bad 'a' word again? I'm a bad bot." Ironhide sidled awkwardly away from Elita's rifle. A femme with firepower was a dangerous thing.

Optimus Prime looked skywards, mumbling to himself. He sighed. He hadn't pictured Sabre's first outside experience to be quite like this. "Let's just go. You all have your instructions. Transform; uh, those who haven't yet transformed; and get into formation." With that, the big mech folded into his semi-truck mode and opened his passenger door. "Elita? Please strap him in?"

The femme smiled softly. "Of course. C'mon Sabby, in you get! We're going driving!"

Sabre went into sparkling overload, shrieking, clapping and whistling as Elita placed him onto Prime's passenger seat and strapped him in. The mechling was just the right size to fit. She kissed his head lovingly, "Now you behave, okay? Do what Optimus says. He's here to protect you. I'll be following along too."

Sabre clicked, wriggling. He sort of understood. He leaned forward to place his hands on the inside of the windscreen as his sire's engine started up and the truck began to roll forwards slowly.

Elita One stepped back and transformed into her alternate mode; a rose red Mazda MX-5 sports car, with outspread silver angel wings painted on the hood. The femme zipped up behind her mate, tooting her horn.

Ironhide and Prowl took each flank, moving into their positions with precision. Jazz took the rear.

The trip went fairly smoothly. Sabre found everything and anything to be of incredible interest. He didn't understand why other cars had little bots at their steering wheels, though. Couldn't the cars drive themselves? And he went absolutely berserk when another semi-truck just like his father (without the flames) pulled up next to them at traffic lights on the way home.

He liked motorcycles. They looked so weird, but so much fun. Sort of like a strange incarnation of himself with his wheels.

Optimus and Elita didn't dare allow him to step outside. It was too risky. But as they approached the base Optimus did roll down his window and allow the mechling to carefully stick his head out and feel the wind on his faceplates. Sabre made faces at the funny sensation.

The big semi rolled to a stop outside the base gates. "Ride's over, Sabre. Did you enjoy that?" Optimus asked.

The mechling nodded hard, starting to gesture with his hands and click away madly.

Optimus chuckled, "I can see you did. We'll go again another day, okay?"

At that, Sabre paused. His expression became thoughtful. Then he leaned forwards, tapping his hands on the dashboard and making 'vroom, vroom' noises. He didn't want to stop. He wanted to go out again NOW.

Prime opened his door for Elita waiting outside to collect him, and retracted the seat belt. "Out you get."

But Sabre had no intention of leaving. He smacked at Elita's hand and growled deeply when she tried to get hold of him. Elita jerked back her hand, surprised, "Sabre? What's wrong?"

The little mechling put his hands on the dashboard, trying to push the truck to get started again. He made more 'vroom' noises.

"Oh. No, no, we're all finished now. No more driving," Elita said firmly, trying again to get him out. Sabre hissed, scrambling over to the other side of the cab. His optics glared at her. The femme blinked and looked disturbed. Up until now Sabre had done everything they'd asked of him (not that they'd asked much, since he was so young and small), it hadn't occurred to her that he might start saying 'no' so soon.

Ironhide transformed, coming up behind Elita with thumping steps and peering through Prime's windscreen. "Here we go... his first tantrum," he muttered quietly. "I was waiting for this." Louder, he said, "Sabre, time to come out buddy."

The sparkling let loose a long stream of desperate clicks. He wanted to stay.

"Sabre, you must get out now. Please let Elita remove you." Optimus put as much authority into his voice as he thought necessary without frightening the mechling.

"Try again, 'Lita," Ironhide whispered.

Smoothly, not expecting too much trouble, Elita leaned down and stuck her arm inside the door, "Sabre, stop being naughty, you can't – OWWW!" She snatched her arm back. "He bit me!"

Ironhide had to turn away and cover his face. Laughter would only make the female more angry. He'd thought that might happen.

Watching on, Jazz poked a finger into Bumblebee's side. "I remember when YOU used to do that, troublemaker."

"SABRE!" Prime's cab shook from his deep loud voice, "No biting! That is forbidden! Get out RIGHT NOW and apologise!"

Sabre escalated his tantrum level. He kicked the door, wailed, thumped his fists on the dashboard and generally kicked up a good all-round stink. He wasn't getting what he wanted. Elita stood back, stunned. Sabre was absolutely manic.

Prowl's optics widened. "Holy Primus..." Jazz had talked about how bad sparklings could be. Prowl hadn't had much to do with them. This was awful.

Bumblebee looked shocked. This is what HIS tantrum's had been like? He had some _serious_ apologising to do! He didn't remember ever acting like that!

With gentle knowing hands, Ironhide moved Elita back and stepped up to the cab door. "Right, you, come out of there." His thick black arm reached inside. One strong hand closed around the angry mechling, and pulled him out. Sabre shrieked at top volume. He was being one-upped and he didn't like it.

Ironhide grimaced, and lifted his arm with the sparkling attached to it. Literally. Sabre was growling. He was biting and gnawing madly at the back of Ironhide's hand. The big black warrior put up with the sharp bites of pain. He looked at a still-stunned Elita, Sabre continuing to bite away. "Do I have permission to smack him?" he asked with one arched optic ridge.

Optimus Prime transformed quickly. His optics were dark. He leaned over Ironhide. "Give him here."

Ironhide held out his arm stiffly, "You can try..."

With difficulty, Optimus managed to disengage his son from hanging onto Ironhide's arm. He lifted Sabre up with both hands. Optic-to-optic with the pissed-off mechling.

Sabre shrieked madly, kicking his dangling legs in a temper.

Optimus winced – his audio's hurt! "NO! No more yelling, no more biting! Behave! Bad sparkling!"

Sabre shut up, still looking angry. Then he wriggled. His optics widened. That was all the warning his poor sire received. He gagged, and threw up all over Prime's chest.

"What the – Sabre!" Prime held Sabre as far away as his arms would stretch, and looked down at his chest covered in partially digested low-grade energon. It was beginning to drip down his legs and get into every crevice of his armor. "Oh no..." he groaned.

Elita gasped, and rushed to take her crying sparkling. "Oh Sabby, it's okay, you're just tired. You've had a big experience. Come here." She lifted him from Prime's outstretched hands, careful not to touch her bonded's body. He was filthy, and he smelt of sour energon. She wasn't going anywhere near him until he was cleaned up, and he could forget about snuggling up to her, tonight! Sabre curled up in her arms, his head on her chest, crying weakly with one fist shoved in his mouth.

This time Ironhide didn't bother covering up his laughter. There was no way he could stop himself. He bent over, hands on his knees, barking loud, deep chuckles. "I've waited a loooong time to see something like that," the mech rumbled, grinning. "Primus does deliver."

Despite themselves, the other started to laugh as well. Prowl covered his face with one hand and managed to muffle it. Jazz kept it down to snickers. Bumblebee laughed once then looked scared. Oh, he knew he'd done that once too. Like Sam was fond of saying, So Not Funny.

"Ugh... Primus.." Optimus cringed, keeping his arms away from his chest. "Uh, is he okay, Elita?"

Sabre was sniffling and still letting out an occasional sob. Elita patted his back, lifting him higher onto her shoulder. "He's okay. He got too worked up. We should have expected it. Ironhide, stop it!"

Optimus Prime glared at his best friend as he stalked past, heading for the nearest wash racks. The others gave him a wide berth. "Next time I'll be quicker to turn him around and get it all over you."

Prowl wafted a hand over his noseplates, as Optimus went past, wincing, "Should we, uh, hose him down outside or something?" he whispered to Jazz.

**NEXT:** Optimus has a shower (he needs to before anyone would dare read the next chapter!) and Sabre learns how to put color into his protoform.


	11. Chapter 11

**Scent of the Future**

Authors Note: This is an entire chapter dedicated to fluff. Sparkling fluff (both literal, and physical). I'm being indulgent. I'm allowed to do that sometimes, right?

**Chapter 11**

Optimus Prime studied the latest communications readings unhappily. Since the landing of Elita One, the Autobots had not been able to detect any other transmissions from space responding to Prime's sparkfelt message. He knew he should not allow himself to feel such disappointment, but it was hard to take.

The large mech sighed, resting his chin on one hand.

Sabre had recovered from his over-the-top tantrum inside his sire's cab. He had been cautiously allowed to have free run of his parents office while they caught up on some work. Ratchet had checked over the little tyke and given him the all-clear (after chuckling and nodding wisely over being told what Sabre had done to Ironhide's hand). Optimus, on the other hand, had been banished TWICE to the wash racks to try and rid himself of the clinging sour energon odour.

...and a third time in his own quarters with Elita helping. Her help wasn't dedicated to merely _cleaning_, however.

Clicking and warbling away with contentment, Sabre scrambled up, over, and down his sire's wide thick shoulders, hanging on like a monkey. He'd scaled the desk his father used with ease. The little bot was a prolific climber. Anything and everything was studied as a potential climbing victim. Many of the mech's in the base had been caught unawares in the rec room when Elita allowed Sabre some 'run loose' time, no bot had been un-conquered. Even Ironhide managed to meekly put up with being a jungle gym. Ratchet had smiled when Sabre made it to the top of Ironhide's head and sat there with his arms held up in mock victory, then slid down one politely offered cannon from Ironhide's lifted arm, and began to scamper about in search of another challenge.

Bumblebee was a favourite. He even got down onto the floor and arranged himself in different poses for his playmate to scale up and down. Elita had entered the rec room one morning in search of her charge, after leaving Sabre in Bumblebee's ecstatic loving care for an hour, and she'd found Jazz sitting at a table and grinning away at Bee stuck on his back on the floor. The Camaro couldn't move – or more likely, _wouldn't_ move. Sabre was curled up on his chest, having been struck down by a nap attack. In the middle of playing 'hands' with Bee, Elita's little one had passed out on top of his best pal.

Bumblebee's large hands were carefully surrounding the tiny bot, making sure he didn't slip off, and he looked up sheepishly at the Femme Commander, blinking his optics. The new baby sparkling on top of the previous all-grown-up baby sparkling.

The femme had put her hands to her mouth and choked up trying to describe the scene to her sparkmate.

News spread quickly around the base whenever it was innocently broadcast over every personal comlink (thank you, Jazz) that Optimus was using the rec room for Sabre's 'learning to walk' lessons. The tall Commander had been disconcerted to find his and Sabre's quiet space invaded by grinning mech's all eager to watch, and help out their new little buddy with his walking. But in the end, how could Optimus refuse his friends? They were drafted as helpers; holding Sabre's hand and letting him walk two or three wobbly steps with minimal assistance to the next mech in line, until the mechling became tired and was taken for a power recharge nap by Elita.

"Sabby, calm down, Optimus is thinking, he has work to do," Elita softly chided her sparkling from her working space on the other side of the medium-sized office. The little mechling squeaked as he prepared to make another trip over Optimus' frame, pausing on Prime's left shoulder and blinking at his female progenitor. Elita smiled at him fondly. "Not too much, okay?"

Sabre turned his head to the side, looking at his father. Gingerly grasping the side of Optimus' helmet armor, he managed to lean down sideways and go optic-to-optic with his dad. He clicked earnestly.

Prime stared back, a bit startled at the sudden appearance of his sparkling right in front of his face. "Are you having fun, little one?"

Sabre nodded, bouncing his head up and down. He was studying the tired expression Optimus was displaying, looking concerned. His free hand reached out to touch his father's cheek softly.

"I'm alright, Sabre, I just would like to see more Autobot's responding to my signal, that's all," Optimus reassured the tiny mech, pushing his nose against Sabre's probing hand.

The mechling seemed to think this over for a second, then he reached out and hugged his father's head with both arms, trying to give him comfort. While Sabre didn't entirely understand what was making his sire unhappy, he wanted to provide sympathy.

Elita burst out laughing at the seriously surprised expression on Prime's face from behind the determined sparkling's hug, his optic ridges rising up in a big 'O' expression. Chuckling, Optimus retrieved Sabre from around his head, settling the little bot on his miniature aft upon the desk. Sabre held onto one of his upturned feet with both hands, his optics glittering. He squeaked, looking up at the much larger mech gazing down at him.

Optimus stroked Sabre's cheek with one finger, smiling down at him. "Thank you, Sabre. I feel much better now."

Sabre nodded seriously, clicked, and started to scramble off the desk, dangling his legs, then letting go and reaching the ground with a thump (Elita winced), heading around to the back of Prime's chair. Leaning back on his aft, he looked upwards. Time to climb the mountain again.

Prime looked across at his closely watching sparkmate and grinned. "He has a good spark. Only nice bots do hugs like that." His optics were glowing with warmth.

"Of course he does," Elita said proudly, nodding, "he's our sparkling. The odd throw-down he has is merely inherited from your side," she continued smoothly. She grinned, snickering, when she felt a reprimanding tug at the spark-link she shared with her mate.

"Femmes..." Optimus chided, "How much more hyper would that tantrum have been if Sabre was a female?"

A smug Optimus got a datapad in the head for that one. Elita wasn't just a good shot with a rifle in her hand.

Prime looked back down at his very own mechling. He was tapping at his sire's leg, examining its structure, getting his fingers inside the armor and generally having a good sticky beak. Elita envied her son that she couldn't take the time to sit and do that too. Her mate had such _nice_ long masculine legs...

Optimus went back to his work, chuckling occasionally when Sabre touched a particularly ticklish set of cables, or tugged at a wire.

"Optimus... look down..." Elita's hushed voice caught his attention.

Doing as told, the Autobot Commander peered downwards at his son – to find Sabre leaning his forehead on his ankle, deep in recharge. His small arms were curled up around his father's leg, clutching at his armor to keep balance. Optimus almost melted into a puddle of wires and armor. He never wanted to forget a moment like this..

Elita One rose from her desk, coming across. "Official recharge time, I believe," she whispered softly. Her hands smoothly and gently peeled him off her mate's leg, lifting him up into her arms as Sabre chirped, snuggling in while rubbing at his optics with one tiny fist.

Neither of the parents knew what events the night was going to bring, especially since it started off so sweetly.

Just before midnight, Earth time, Sabre woke up. He lay on his side and stared at the wall of his enclosed recharge berth. His tummy felt strange. Unbeknownst to him, his holding tanks were churning madly. He felt over-heated and uncomfortable.

Getting cranky and upset, his legs kicked out, banging against the berth wall. There was silence for a little while. In the darkness of the room, Optimus and Elita did not stir from their own recharge programs.

Sabre kicked out again. He groaned, rolling over onto his back. Restless. Then he started making choking crying sounds.

Elita sat up, confused and not understanding what had brought her on-line. Sabre howled, curling up into a tight ball. He muttered and hiccuped. His tummy really hurt.

"...Lita?" Prime's low voice startled her, as did his hand on her shoulder. His optics glowed dimly at hers from beside her on the berth.

"Sabre. He's awake." Getting her processes together, she quickly shifted off the large recharge berth and bent over to look down at her sparkling, touching a finger to his cheek. "What's wrong, little one?" Sabre's small optics looked up at her. They glowed oddly. Not his usual sky blue. More... purple. Then Sabre began letting loose with sharp painful cries. "Oh no.. Optimus!" Elita picked him up, her movements made awkward by the fact Sabre was curled into himself so tightly. He didn't seem to want to let go of his midsection. "Sabre's sick, get Ratchet, quickly!"

Optimus tore off the berth, listening to Sabre's pain-filled cries of distress. They shook him to his core. It'd be faster if he went and got the CMO from his room, rather than trying to wake him from his recharge program over the comlink channel. He signalled the lights to come on at low power while he raced down the hallway.

"Sabby, Sabby, it's okay, help is coming," Elita crooned desperately, rocking her crying sparkling back and forth in her arms. The poor mechling would interrupt his crying with sharp shrieks of pain. Nothing she said or did seemed to calm him. "Oh Primus... Sabre.."

The medic roused quickly from his recharge with the over-wrought frantic form of Optimus Prime beating down his door (who wouldn't?), and the two mech's appeared back at Prime's quarters at the same time as Sabre let loose with a violent purge of his holding tanks all over Elita's shoulder and down her back.

"Whoops, give him here," Ratchet quickly ordered, barely flinching at Sabre's ejection of energon, taking charge and lifting the softly crying sparkling from Elita's sticky shoulder. Sabre felt better after his sparkling spew. He sniffled into his hands.

"What's wrong with him?" Optimus demanded anxiously, hovering around the CMO, "He was screaming in pain..." His optics moved sharply between staring at his poor sick sparking and glancing at a terrified Elita.

Ratchet held the sparkling on his back in one bulky arm while running a peripheral scan up and down Sabre's squirming body using his wrist analyser. "Give me a moment."

Elita came up behind Optimus, putting her hands on his hips and looking with fear and worry at her sparkling. Her optics were pain-filled. "It was awful, he was yelling, upset, I c-couldn't do anything." She put her hands to her face, shaking her head. Optimus hugged her to his side (while avoiding the spewed upon shoulder).

"Ah. Thought so. Here, someone hold him for me?" Ratchet waited while Elita got Sabre cradled in her arms again. The sparkling was getting restless once more, starting to whine and become distressed. Ratchet immobilised Sabre's forearm with Optimus' help, slipped a compression needle into Sabre's wrist port and injected a small dose of system inhibitor into his energon line, along with some pain relief. "There, that should do it."

Sabre snatched his arm out of his father's grip when the injection was finished, holding it between himself and his mother's chest, glaring at Ratchet with an expression that clearly said 'What did you do that for?!'.

"Sorry Sabre," Ratchet smiled gently, rubbing a finger on the sparklings head, "But you'll feel better soon."

The CMO watched on calmly – Optimus with fear and nervousness, his optic covers twitching - as the mechling's optics closed over and he grumbled into Elita's chest, hiccuping. His holding tanks rumbled ominously.

Optimus tentatively reached out a hand and stroked a finger soothingly down Sabre's hunched back. "What is wrong with him, Ratchet?"

"A system upset," the Rescue Hummer's optics stayed locked on Sabre, watching him intently, "This is normal for a sparkling. Upsetting, but normal. What I've dosed him with will stop the pain, but he may still eject up whatever is in his holding tanks for a while longer."

"Normal?! This hasn't happened before!" Elita didn't mean to sound harsh, and immediately cursed herself silently, "I mean, he hasn't been unwell since he was sparked. We haven't had any trouble with him."

Ratchet turned knowing optics on her, mildly amused, "Yes, but he is only three Earth months old."

With the pain in his midsection receding, Sabre started to wriggle and push against Elita's chest. He wanted to get down. His small hands were shoving and lightly smacking at her, and he was making small grunts.

The femme looked down at him worriedly, "Sabby, you can't go scampering around, you're sick-"

"He's okay, he won't do anything to himself down on the ground." Ratchet folded his arms, looking at the irate sparkling. "He'll just get more upset if you don't put him down."

"Okay..." Elita appeared sceptical, rasing her optic ridges, but she set her restless mechling down next to her feet.

Sabre sat back on his small aft, looking around. He looked up and saw the greenish mech who had stuck a needle in his wrist. Frowning, he lifted himself up onto his feet using Elita's leg as a prop and got himself around his mother's leg for safety, peering warily through a gap in her armor at Ratchet. He wasn't going to let the CMO get his hands on him again.

"I don't think he likes you any more, Ratchet," Optimus smiled faintly, watching. Sabre was ducking his head behind Elita, then sticking it out to look angrily at Ratchet, and ducking back to safety again. The towering Leader mech was very relieved that Sabre was feeling better and not in pain any longer.

"That's always the way with sparklings..." Ratchet sighed. "They see helping as hurting – medically, I mean."

Optimus smirked at that, "It doesn't always change for the better when you get _older_." Ignoring Ratchet's foul glare, he reached down to remove Sabre from clinging to Elita's leg. "You better go and get cleaned up, 'Lita, your shoulder and back is a mess."

"Oh, yes, thanks," Elita looked down at herself and the vomited energon sticking to her body. "Back in a microsec."

Sabre held onto his sire's leg on wobbly feet and watched his mother disappear into the washing room. He squeaked sadly and stared up at his father with big optics.

"She'll be back." Prime's optics glowed lovingly down at him. "I'm here."

Sabre clicked. Then he sat down on his aft again and looked down curiously at his midsection. There was gurgling sounds coming from it. He patted his tummy inquisitively.

Crouching down with his hands on his knees, Ratchet looked concerned, "Uh oh, I think he might be ready to-"

Sabre interrupted him by suddenly leaning forwards and chucking up all over the floor and Ratchet's feet, leaving a small pool of energon and dissolving fluids in front of himself. Distressed, not understanding what was happening to him, he began crying again.

Optimus scooped him up and held him to his chestplates. "It's okay, it's okay," he soothed. Sabre wasn't going to be told that, however, and his loud shrieking started up again. His small hands clung helplessly to his father's armor, squeezing and grabbing while he squashed his face tightly into the panels of Prime's chest. A dripping wet Elita came rushing out of the wash rack.

"Again?" she asked worriedly, looking down at the floor and Ratchet's dirtied feet, then up at her bonded partner. Sabre was held in her sparkmates arms. The sparkling looked so small and vulnerable held against Optimus' massive powerful frame, just a tiny protoform seeking comfort and security. Prime was cupping Sabre's aft in one hand while patting his back with the other, making awkward cooing sounds and staring down at Sabre leaned into the plates of his chest.

"Unfortunately, yes," Ratchet frowned down at his feet. He looked back up at Elita and Optimus standing close together with a wailing hiccuping Sabre between them, trying to calm their upset sparkling. "I think I'll leave you two to it, and go get washed. There is nothing more I can do for Sabre. We just need to wait until his systems reset themselves, and purge whatever is upsetting them."

Optimus stared at him worriedly, "You're sure? I mean-" he was interrupted by a particularly loud screeching wail from his son, "he doesn't seem okay yet."

"He is upset, uncomfortable and tired. I can't help you with any of these things, unfortunately. That's for you two to do. We'll just have to wait it out," Ratchet patted the back of Sabre's head sympathetically. Sabre's crying increased. "Oh dear. I'll come back in two Earth hours to check on him. Please call me if he seems to be getting worse, but you must expect that he will cry and eject more energon for a while yet. If he quietens down, try to get him into recharge. It will help. All we can do is offer him comfort for the moment, and pain relief for system spasms."

"Oh, sweetie, you poor little thing," Elita lifted herself up on the toes of her feet and planted a soft kiss on the back of Sabre's head. "We're here, we'll help."

"Perhaps a, er, receptacle for him to expel energon into would prevent any more, um," Ratchet lifted one of his vomit covered feet gingerly, inspecting it, "accidents. I'll go and get you one." His exit from the room was accompanied by Sabre's frenzied crying.

Optimus and Elita together managed to get Sabre somewhat calmed down. His cries decreased in volume to whimpers with the occasional upset wail.

"I never thought I'd have a sparkling..." Prime's words were murmured softly. His optics kept watching the miserable bundle of wires and protoform metal in his arms. Sabre wriggled. His fingers clenched and tucked into his armor. He was determined not to let go, as if his sire could protect him from feeling so sick.

Elita's optics glowed up at him, "Why would you think that? We were always going to have one eventually." Her hand rested tenderly on his forearm. "And now we do. Sabre."

"I know. And he is a precious gift to us. It's just... I left, you were missing, the war. Megatron." His optics looked around their quarters, "Coming here." Prime kept his words soft, not wanting to disturb the mechling.

The rose femme smiled up at him. "Everything is turning out okay. More than okay- perfect."

Sabre hiccuped – then let a loud muffler fart come from his exhaust. The smell wafted upwards.

"Aww, even if it's a bit smelly," Elita bunched up her faceplates. "Sabre, that's not nice."

Ratchet came in the door, and sniffed, wincing. "Oh, I forgot to warn you about those."

Optimus; who was closest to Sabre and therefore right in the way of the smell, looked faintly offended, holding his head off to the side as much as he could. "That is awful... Sabre, how could you do that?"

Elita had her hands over her noseplates. "And I thought the normal Optimus–sized ones were bad. This tops them!"

"Here," Ratchet shoved the flat-bottomed bowl he was holding into Elita's hand. "Use this when he ejects up, toss the contents into the waste system. Phew." The medic blinked his optics rapidly, "I'll be back later. Good luck."

As Ratchet left the room and closed the door, Sabre whimpered – and let loose with another exhaust explosion. This one seemed worse then the first one.

"Oh dear _Primus_, Sabre, where are you getting that from?" Elita gagged, taking a step backwards from her sparkling and sparkmate.

"Must be the remnants of whatever hit his system that it didn't like..." Optimus gasped, struggling to ignore his survival instincts to drop-and-run from the horrendous stench, and keep hold of a quietening Sabre.

Sabre expelled energon a few more times, keeping both his progenitors on their toes and awake to deal with him. He'd vomit, cry hard enough to vomit again, and follow all that with some fantastic muffler bombs when he was calm again.

Dawn was breaking when a tired Optimus leaned back in one of the two chairs in their quarters, watching Elita lying on her back on their recharge berth with an at-last recharging exhausted sparkling on her chest. Ratchet had come and gone, administering more pain relievers into his wrist port with a compression needle. Sabre had screamed the place down for that one.

"Ugh..." Optimus rubbed a tired hand over his faceplates, stretching out his legs. "I better inform Prowl and Ironhide of what has been happening."

Elita peered at him with dull optics over the top of Sabre under her chin. "Can Prowl cover your shift for the day? I don't want to be alone with Sabre so sick."

"Of course, I wasn't planning to work today until he's better." Optimus dragged himself upright out of his chair. Perhaps if he just ducked out quickly, he could speak to Prowl in his office. He might gather some energon for both him and Elita from the rec room at the same time. "I'll be back as quick as I can. Just hold on."

"Mmm, okay," Elita soothed a hand up and down Sabre's back. He sniffled and twitched.

Prowl didn't received a message or visit from his Commander. The Second-In-Command was called to the rec room by Jazz to find a recharging Optimus Prime with his head down on one of the tables – completely knocked out. One of his hands stubbornly hung onto two portions of energon on the tabletop.

Jazz cocked an optic ridge at his berth partner with amusement, "Hard night?"

Prowl walked around his Leader on silent feet, checking him out. "I think someone has been here before us," he said in a low voice, "Look." Prowl's finger pointed to a note stuck carefully onto the back of Prime's neck.

Jazz read it and slapped his hands over his mouthplates to stop from braying with laughter.

In sprawling Cybertronian script, the note said, 'IF FOUND, PLEASE RETURN TO AUTOBOT COMMAND'. There were other smaller notes which had been stuck around the first bigger one. 'I AM AN ESCAPED TARGET, PLEASE RETURN ME TO THE TARGET RANGE' (Ironhide's blocky writing), and, 'FOR SALE, SLIGHTLY USED, ONLY DRIVEN ON SUNDAYS' (Bumblebee's stylish script).

Prowl crossed his arms, looking serious, "I think I need to send around some memo's about leaving incriminating notes on recharging Autobots."

Jazz kept smirking, pulling out some paper and an encrypting pen from a hip compartment, "Really? Nooo. And hey, can we-"

"No, we can not." Prowl glared at him, beginning to gently remove the offending notes. He intended to get rid of the notes (after scanning them for disciplinary purposes) and return the obviously exhausted Prime to his quarters. He'd cover his shift and duties for the day.

Jazz's optics were pleading behind his visor, "But-"

"NO. I forbid it."

"Should've done one before I called ya..." Jazz muttered crossly, annoyed at his lost opportunity and Prowl's unwillingness to do something naughty.

Optimus Prime was returned to his quarters, and laid out on his berth next to his amused sparkmate. Sabre took one look at his tired sire and scampered across to sleep on HIS chest instead of his mothers. He was feeling much more normal. And recharging on his dad would make things even better.

Now his parents need to get better too...


	12. Chapter 12

**Scent of the Future**

Authors Note: **optimus prime 007** (she is Kaceystar's mum) is to be thanked for some of the scenes in this chapter. She gave me some good ideas, so I'm not shy of usin' them. Hope it works out okay!

**Chapter 12**

_Autobot Base, outskirts of Tranquillity, USA..._

"I think he's feeling better now." Elita perched herself on the edge of her and Prime's large recharge berth with Sabre on her lap. She patted his back gently as he made 'vroom, vroom' noises and waved his arms around (his favourite noise; he either made them high-pitched like Bumblebee's engine, or lower like his dad's diesel engine).

"Mmmm... he sounds better..." Optimus Prime was lying back on the berth with his hands tucked behind his head, one optic swivelled to keep an eye on his sparkmate and sparkling.

Elita bent her head down and sniffed delicately. She made a face. "Ugh. He needs cleaning, he's got bits of energon spew on him. Do you think he'd be okay if we washed him?"

"Ratchet said he was recovered, but we should keep him quiet. Maybe we can give him a bath later." Optimus focused his optics on Sabre. He couldn't see anything wrong. Sabre looked clean to him. Femmes and their determined desire to have everything cleaned to death... Optimus sighed and dimmed his optics, ready and able to do another recharge program. Prowl could handle things for a while longer.

"Hey!" Elita thumped a small fist on his thigh, making him jerk and his optics flash. "I'm not the only one looking after our sparkling. We share duties, remember?" The rose-colored femme's gaze was frosty. She poked a finger into his knee joint for emphasis. "I think you should take him into the wash racks with you."

Optimus sat up, his optics flickering. "O-oh. Do you? Right now?"

"Yes." Elita lifted Sabre up and held him under the armpits, holding him out to her sleepy mate. "Bath time. Now."

Sabre put a finger into his mouth and giggled at his sire, kicking his feet. Optimus looked at him, smiling. Thank Primus his mechling was no longer in pain, ejecting energon or screaming at Ratchet's injections. He couldn't stand to see Sabre sick. It had made his spark twist itself into helpless painful knots.

"Of course. It should be fun. Come here Sabby," Optimus lifted the sparkling out of Elita's grasp, and swung his legs around and off the berth. It was only when he'd stood up that Elita's real intentions were revealed. The femme had promptly dived down face first onto the now empty recharge berth and spread her arms and legs out with a huge sigh of relief.

"...Take your time. No rush. No rush at all..." Elita's muffled voice came to them from her face shoved into the soft headrest at the top of the berth. Mmm, Prime's side of the berth was still warm from his larger chassis... and it smelt faintly of diesel.

"Femmes." Optimus chuckled, surveying his relaxing mate. Sabre was pointing one hand at his Mom and clicking vigorously. "She's okay, Sabby. We're going for a wash now, how's that sound?"

"Vroom, vroom!"

"Yes, I thought so," Optimus chuckled and hitched Sabre into the bent elbow of one arm. He strode towards the wash rack installed in his quarters. Sabre bounced slightly with every step his sire took, his head nodding. His optics widened when they entered the tall wash rack. Prime paused, thinking. He'd never washed a sparkling before, not even Bumblebee. Ironhide had always done that. "Right. Now. Er... not too hot, I suppose. And you've used solvent cleanser before? With Elita?"

Sabre looked up at him with bright optics, not understanding. His hands held on tightly to the front of Optimus' chest where his windscreen was split in half.

"Okay, well. Uh. Hmm." Perhaps if he got the cleanser on himself first and then allowed Sabre to use it too? Carefully cradling Sabre, he activated the overhead sprinklers so solvent began to weakly cascade down in front of them.

Sabre jerked backwards into Prime's chest. His optics looked up at where the solvent was coming from, then trailed down at where it was going. Into the drain. His face looked up at his Dad. He was scared.

"It's okay. This is normal, it's how we get clean. Not all of us have buckets to wash in." Optimus tried to reassure him. Sabre didn't look convinced. "Look, do this." Optimus extended his free arm to let his hand go under the solvent. It streamed through his fingers and sparkled under the ceiling lights. Sabre blinked at that. Pretty. Cautiously, he let his hand reach out. Small bits of warm solvent dripped onto it. He looked surprised and pulled his hand back to himself to examine it, feeling the slipperiness, then squeaked up at his sire.

"You like that? It's nice, huh?"

Unknown to Optimus and Sabre, Elita One had crept quietly off the recharge bed and approached the wash rack. She stayed out of sight and leaned against the wall next to the door, smiling. Her sparkmate could be very self conscious when it came to things like this, and she wanted to know how he interacted with Sabre without her watching over his shoulder and correcting him.

"Would it be alright if I stood under it? Just with my back? You won't get wet much." Slowly, Optimus turned around and backed himself under the solvent. It hit his shoulders and back without coming down his front. Some splatters landed on Sabre. The solvent was slowly penetrating the cracks and openings of Optimus Prime's chassis and running the length of his body to pool at his feet. At first the mechling kept himself tucked safely into Prime's chestplates, his optics blinking madly. Then he bravely put his hand out and let it get wet. He shook it. Solvent drops went everywhere, making him squeal excitedly.

When Sabre reached out with both hands to get them wet, wriggling his fingers, Optimus was satisfied that he was relaxing.

"Time for some cleanser now. Look," Optimus used one hand to get some silver liquid out of small dispenser on the wall. He held his hand in front of Sabre, allowing him to look closely at it. "Is that okay? Do you want to see where it goes?" Carefully, not moving too quickly, Optimus put his own hand to the left-hand side of his chest, away from Sabre's side. He rubbed. The cleanser started to froth... and make small bubbles.

Sabre looked at the frothy substance with wide optics. He squinted up at his dad for reassurance.

"It won't hurt you. You can touch it."

Optimus kept still as Sabre touched a fingertip to the cleanser. Some bubbles popped up where he was touching and floated away into the air. Sabre's mouthplates dropped open... and the most massive squeal of delight came from him. With abandon, he began slapping, rubbing and flailing around against his father's armor, making a huge cleanser mess.

Unable to resist any longer, Elita pushed away from the wall and stood in the wash rack entrance. She smiled at her wet mech and playing sparkling. "Having fun? How's he going?"

Optimus looked up, grinning. "He's doing fine. No problem. We're just going slowly." Sabre waved his arms around in the shower of bubbles he'd created, before bringing his hands back to his sire's chest and vigorously making more, grunting with effort.

Elita smirked, putting one hand on her petite hip. A few small bubbles floated past her face and she waved them away. She remembered when she'd done that, swirling her fingertip around the gaps in his chest armor, following the lines, rubbing in cleanser, awakening sleeping circuitry... Sabre wasn't the only one who liked to have fun in the wash racks. "Ah, ahem, he seems very intent on cleaning you, which is good, but what about cleaning _him_? That is the point of this exercise, yes?"

Optimus looked sideways at her with darkened optics, "You didn't seem worried about getting clean when you were in here before. You were very..." he arched an optic ridge, "distracted."

Elita laughed and chucked a washing rag at him, hitting him in the shoulder. "Clean your sparkling, you aft."

Prime removed the rag from his shoulder armor with haughty optics, "Of course. C'mon Sabby, our fun is getting interrupted. Time to start the cleaning."

Elita snorted, "Don't forget to dry him! Or else the first time he gets down onto the floor, all the dust will stick to him." She turned around and headed back to the recharge berth.

"Yes ma'am. Clean the sparkling, dry the sparkling. Got it."

It was a very clean, dry, and pretty pair of mechs (one tall, one tiny) who presented themselves to Elita One for inspection some time later. Sabre kept rubbing his fingertip on his protoform metal and clicking excitedly at the 'squeak' sound it made. He hadn't thought the dryers were so much fun, even when he put his face right up close to them, but he had put up with it without too much grumbling and squirming.

Elita carefully took Sabre from the arms of her sparkmate, "Right, I think we can go and visit the rec room now. I've been getting messages from everyone asking about Sabre. They all want to see him." She tapped a finger on Sabre's noseplates, "Just a short visit, then it's recharge time for you, sweetie."

The base rec room was extraordinarily busy that evening. The tale of Sabre's previous night being spent sick had been passed around many times. Elita One had brought her recovering sparkling to the rec room for well wishers to greet him and pass on sympathy, while verifying some of the more over-the-top aspects of Sabre's night – yes, he had thrown up on Ratchet, her too; yes, Optimus had passed out in the rec room from exhaustion; no, Optimus was not for sale as a used vehicle, nor did he belong on the target range as one of Ironhide's weapon drones (despite Ironhide groaning dramatically that he was now one drone short).

Bumblebee sat on a chair and let Sabre totter around him, guiding the small mechling with his hands, then passed him back to Elita. Sabre was chattering and clicking while doing his assisted walking practise. When he'd first entered the rec room, the Camaro had picked up Sabre, turned him carefully upside-down, and seriously inspected his little aft, trying to ascertain where Sabre's ungodly muffler fluffs had come from while Sabre shrieked with laughter and batted his hands on Bee's armor (Elita had been very descriptive of Sabre's 'problem' when he was sick, but thankfully his muffler bombs had ceased, except for the odd residual micro fluff).

"Sabby! My favourite mech in the whole universe!" Jazz arrived from his shift and knelt down on the rec room floor and clapped his hands, grinning at Sabre standing up and hanging onto Elita's carefully propped knee for support. "Are you feeling better now?"

Sabre squeaked happily, and let loose one of the longest and most serious bursts of clicking and squeaking he'd ever done, complete with one small hand waving and gesturing like he'd seen his father do. Jazz sat back on his heels and pretended to listen with his head tilted politely towards the small mechling.

"Uh huh, that's not good, nope. Oh really? That's REALLY not good! Ratchet did what? That's awful! Do you want me to smack him for you?"

Elita snickered into one hand, smiling and watching Jazz. The silver mech's armor shone brilliantly under the overhead lights. Obviously newly washed and polished. Elita had been adamant about the fact that NO dirty muddy mech was allowed to play with her sparkling. Absolutely not. Even a dirty Optimus Prime had been smugly directed into the wash racks with one pointed finger.

The rec room door opened to admit a wary looking Ratchet. Sabre immediately ceased talking to Jazz and looked at the medic with a terrified expression. He squealed at high pitch and ducked behind his mothers chair. Elita leaned over and looked between her legs at him kindly. He was hiding under the table. "Sabby! It's okay, he's not going to hurt you, silly!"

Jazz looked over his shoulder with one raised optic ridge at Ratchet, "Are you being mean to my buddy, Ratch?" he asked seriously. "I heard you stuck painful pointy things in his arm."

"Yes, that's me," Ratchet sighed and let his aft sink down into the nearest chair tiredly, "the sparkling terroriser. The only thing that will make me feel better about this is if he throws up on Ironhide. I'm still waiting." The medic settled himself at the table and propped his chin in one hand, looking down at Sabre. The sparkling was staring at him from behind Elita with alternating expressions of fear and anger. "Hello Sabre."

Sabre hunched over and crept around the chair to be even further away from the poor doctor.

Elita smiled sadly, "I'm sorry Ratchet, he's determined to keep away from you now. I've explained to him many times that you only gave you a tiny needle to stop the pain, but he doesn't want to know."

Sitting back in his chair with his long legs stuck out in front of him, Sunstreaker snickered. "I'm with you, Sabre. Ratchet is a nasty, mean, horrible-"

Prowl smacked him firmly in the back of the head, then returned his hand calmly to his drink.

"OWW!" Sunny rubbed his head, muttering "Glitch..."

Ratchet looked at Prowl with calculating optics, "I think we can put off your overdue exhaust flush for another six months, Prowl."

Prowl raised his drink, tipping it at the CMO, "Thanks."

"What?! No, no, no, I'm the one that has to recharge next to him, those aft fumes are murder!" Jazz spluttered, looking suitably anguished. "They wake me up, man!"

Sabre stared at Jazz, studying his face. Why was he suddenly so upset? Well, if Jazz was helping him feel better, he'd help him too. Concentrating, he started inching his way around to the front of Elita's chair. His mother wasn't looking at him, she was grinning at Prowl. His little spark fluttered at the thought of trying to cover that distance without helping hands, but he was determined.

The femme tittered, "Bit of a problem with the old exhaust outlets, Prowl?"

"You'd know all about them from Optimus' own faulty exhaust, I presume?" Prowl said smoothly.

Elita squinted her optics, "Phhhhht! You shouldn't say things like that, you know it upsets him."

"I've spent a LOT of time with Optimus." Prowl paused. "He isn't as upset as he makes you THINK he is. Did I tell you about the time he released a long good one during some talks with a local neutral faction that were being difficult and ignoring his advice? The neutrals started to agree very hurriedly. They couldn't nod fast enough."

Elita blinked her optics at her bonded's second-in-command, "Really?"

Sabre looked at the distance from him to Jazz still kneeling on the floor. Slowly, he let go of the chair, standing upright on uncertain feet. He raised his foot and took one wobbly step. Then another. Another. And another. He wasn't hanging onto anything.

"Oh my God..." Elita's startled gasp caused everyone to look at her, and then onto Sabre. The sparkling was walking! And no one was holding his hand!

"Sabre! You can do it! Go for it! C'mon!" Jazz held out his hands to the swaying mechling. He withdrew his visor so Sabre could see his encouraging optics, "Keep going!"

Sabre's steps were uneven. Each short step was either longer or shorter than the previous one as the baby mech tried to adjust his balance to keep moving. He leaned over too far to one side and almost lost it, one foot swaying ominously in the air. His determination got him upright again. He paused, then started again, lifting one foot and looking down at where to place it. Almost to Jazz...

Elita One felt a surprised tug at her sparklink to her mate. She looked up. Optimus was standing in the doorway, his optics locked on the first walking steps of his sparkling. His mouth hung open. "Sabre...?"

Elita nodded, "He just started..." she whispered, her hands cupping her face.

When Sabre made the last final step and touched Jazz's hands with his own, the Autobots in the room began clapping and cheering. Jazz looked like he was going to breakdown – Sabre walked to him! To him! He held Sabre's hands tightly as the sparkling stared up at him with bright optics. Jazz was smiling again! That was better. He chirped at Jazz's surprised expression.

Optimus and Elita (as were everyone else) were delighted and overwhelmed with Sabre's first steps. The Autobot Commander had cautiously attempted to ask Sabre to repeat his feat, but the mechling had taken three steps on his own towards the crouching Optimus before wobbling and sitting sharply backwards on his aft with a surprised expression. Whoops. His finished the trip to his chuckling father on all fours, whereupon Elita swept him up and announced it was recharge time. There would be more walking tomorrow.

Jazz was the 'Mech-of-the-Moment', having been the one Sabre had walked to (something he felt guilty about, since it should have been Optimus or Elita that Sabre had walked to, but these things couldn't be planned for certain in advance). Much later that night when Prowl held Jazz comfortingly on their recharge berth, the silver mech whined, "Want a sparkling."

"You're not a femme, Jazz. Neither am I. Haven't you noticed?" Logical Prowl.

"Want one!" Demanding Jazz.

"No, Jazz." Tired Prowl.

"Get a reproduction chamber inserted. For me?" Insistent Jazz.

"Primus Jazz, no thank you. There are no femme parts in _this_ chassis." Disdainful Prowl.

"Then _I'll _get one." Determined Jazz.

"JAZZ! Enough!" Pleading Prowl.

Thoughtful silence for a little while.

"... No sparkling for Jazz..." Whiny mumbling Jazz again.

"Jazzz... frag it, you'll make my optics leak... please go into recharge. You can visit Sabre in the morning." Frustrated and saddened Prowl.

Sabre happily recharged that night without incident right in the middle between a delighted and relieved Optimus Prime and Elita One on the big recharge berth. Optimus programmed his CPU so he would NOT roll over on top of Sabre, and it meant his recharge wasn't as efficient as it could have been otherwise, but it was worth it. Just for one night.

**Supplementary Note**: If you wish to read the chapter where Elita One does, ahem, naughty things to Optimus Prime in the shower, you'll need to go to the 'M' rated section where the fanfic 'Scent of the Future – Special Edition' is kept. Just click on my name 'Phoenix13' to find it on my profile page.


	13. Chapter 13

**Scent of the Future **

Authors Note: There is a bit of innuendo in this. No naughty stuff. Just... well, innuendo. Suggestions, I suppose. And this chapter doesn't go anywhere very much, I'm just tired and can't think of how to get ahead with my next plot point. It should be okay to read, just a bit of fluff! :cough: Literally.

**Chapter 13**

Prowl sat in the rec room and watched as Jazz made a complete aft of himself. The Co-Second-In-Command was carrying the sparkling Sabre around on his back as he crawled around the rec room floor on hands and knees. After their conversation last night with Jazz being miserable about not having a sparkling of his own, Prowl was happy enough that what little spare time the pair had off duty was now spent playing with Prime and Elita's sparkling.

"Jazz... you look silly." Prowl shook his head at the antics of his recharge berth partner. Still, he had a faint smile of amusement on his faceplates.

"Don't you worry none, Sabby. Uncle Prowl is just jealous that he ain't gettin' HIS ride. Steer the pony, tell it where to go!" Jazz urged his rider. If Sabre leaned left, Jazz crawled left. Sabre leaned right, Jazz went right. Even a newly sparked mechling could understand that. Sabre had his hands on the back of Jazz's neck, hanging on to armor ridges for safety. His stubby legs were spread wide and he was perched on Jazz's shoulders.

Jazz was crawling past the rec room door when it opened abruptly. The silver mech peered sideways. Thick, strong, and black legs were planted in his way. His head twisted further and his optics blinked up at the menacing form of Ironhide.

"Playing 'pony' again, Jazz?" Ironhide's deep smooth voice reverberated with amusement around the room.

"Hey, wait ya turn, 'Hide! This is priority cargo! First come first served."

Sabre squealed at his new visitor. He lifted his arms straight up, wanting Ironhide to pick him up. Small blue round optics glowed up at him beseechingly.

"Alright, alright, never could say no..." Ironhide rumbled, reaching down and lifting Sabre from Jazz's back. Sabre trilled happily. He wriggled and got himself comfortable in the crook of Ironhide's arm while leaning his head against Ironhide's chestplates. This mech had a strong spark. He liked being close to it. It was old, and not all that bright, but its thick density, strength, and dependability was comforting.

"No way, man! That's MY plaything! Get ya own!" Jazz cried, disappointed.

"Sabre's choice, youngling. Suck it up." Ironhide's tall legs had no trouble stepping right over the mech on the floor. He smirked at Prowl – who lifted one optic ridge at him in query – and ignored Jazz's continued whimpering. "Anyway, he should be with someone responsible," Ironhide said with a smirk, seating himself at a table.

"Jazz, why are you on the floor?" Bumblebee now stood in the entrance, his way blocked by a pouting, on-all-fours, Jazz.

"I'm up, I'm up, Ironhide stole my play buddy." Jazz literally jumped up onto his feet. His extraordinary ability to contort himself and pull off amazing moves was something natural to him. "Ironhide..." he whined, stalking past the black mech cradling Sabre.

Ironhide looked down at Sabre, "He's happy. Leave him alone." The mechling didn't look tired, but he was definitely quiet. Contemplative.

Bumblebee slid into the chair next to Ironhide. "Can I hold him?" he asked hopefully.

"Not just yet..." Ironhide murmured, keeping his gaze on the sparkling. Sabre was thinking about something. He'd seen this look before. On Bumblebee's cute sparkling face eons ago. Right before something happened that you'd rather _didn't_ happen.

"Hey, Bee, you seein' Sam this afternoon?" Jazz asked the Camaro.

Bumblebee blew a recorded raspberry in answer. "Nope. He's got a biology practical on."

Sabre, critically alert to everything that was happening around him, perked up. Ah. He played back the sound Bee had just let forth. That was fun! Re-arranging his soundbanks, Sabre sat up straight and let the sound come forth. Repeatedly.

BLAAAAAAAAAAT! Blat! BLAAAAAAAAAAAT! Blat! Blat! BLAT!

Sabre squealed and clapped his hands excitedly.

BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT!

"BUMBLEBEE!" Ironhide snapped over the top of Sabre playing back his new sound. Non-stop raspberries filled the room.

"Oh no... sorry?" Bumblebee cringed, beginning to slink out from sitting at the table; out of range of being swiped at by Ironhide.

The frustrated black mech lifted the sparkling up off his chest, dangling him by the armpits - rough grey face to perky sparkling face. "Sabre, stop that! That's a bad thing to do!"

BLAAAAAAATTTT!

"NO!" A deep Ironhide growl of displeasure.

BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAATTTTT!

"Sabre!"

BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTTTTTT!

"I said NO!"

BLAT! BLAT! BLAT!

"C'mon mechling, you're Prime's kid, you can't be doing things like this!" Ironhide, getting desperate. He forced his cannons from coming online with a titanic effort of will. Whenever Ironhide was angry or upset, his CPU set the cannon gyros spinning, and the ion igniters spluttering. That would NOT be a good thing to do with Optimus Prime and Elita's sparkling on his lap. Prime would yell, but it was Elita who would dismember him. Slowly. No weapons around the kid...

BLAAAT! BLAT! BLAT! BLAT!

"Oh, good Primus." Ironhide put Sabre down on his lap and covered his own optics with a heavy sigh. Why had his CPU failed to make him remember what trying to control a naughty determined sparkling was like? How had he so easily forgotten the worst of Bumblebee's horrible antics?

Sitting back in his chair indulgently, Prowl crossed his arms and stretched his legs, observing Sabre's misbehaviour. The 'vroom, vroom' sound Sabre usually came out with was so much better. "Still want that sparkling, Jazz?"

Jazz had a dreamy smile, "Yeah..."

"WHAT!" Prowl spluttered.

The room went silent as Sabre paused in his raspberry playback. A worried looking Bumblebee sat in the corner of the room farthest from Ironhide. He was torn between staying out of Ironhide's way and wanting to help with Sabre. He didn't want to get an Ironhide-sized paw in the back of his head for playing the raspberry sound when he KNEW he shouldn't have done that.

"Is Sabre in here?" Ratchet poked his head in the doorway. "Elita said Jazz was looking after him."

BLAAAAAATTTTTTTT!

Ratchet blinked at the rude sound. Sabre was sitting in Ironhide's lap. Ironhide had his hands over his optics and was muttering something un-intelligible. Bumblebee was sitting in the corner, looking scared. Prowl was looking with horror at Jazz, and Jazz had an expression on his face that made him appear as if he'd just had the best overload experience of his life.

"Am I... interrupting something?" Ratchet queried, fully entering the room, putting his hands palm down on his greenish hips.

BLAAAAAAAATTTT!

"Ironhide, make him stop doing that." Ratchet said irritably.

Ironhide looked at his friend with wide optics and limp arms hanging down by his sides, "Don't you think I've tried?" his voice pleaded.

BLATTTT! BLAT! BLAT! BLAT!

Sabre giggled, clapping his hands along with each 'blat' before putting the fingers of one hand in his mouth. Then his optics met those of Ratchet. He froze. Fear flooded his little frame. When the fear hit his lower region that was still dealing with partially digested energon, that fear travelled to his pint-sized aft... but it wasn't a pint-sized muffler fluff that came out of it. Sparkling fuel contained a reasonable percentage of methane since it was easier for their simple systems to utilise.

...even if it did have unfortunate side-effects.

:FART:

Ironhide looked down. And sniffed. God that was awful. He cringed. "_Primus_... why me? Why _on_ me? Why anywhere NEAR me?"

Sabre noticed that the horrible green mech with the needles also took a step backwards at the smell. He was impressed. Now if he could just produce more of those, he had a weapon at last. He stiffened his chassis and bore down. Hard.

:FART:

Sabre giggled and decided to add yet more mayhem to the mix. He liked the reactions he got from everyone.

BLAT! BLAT! BLAT!

More raspberries.

:FART:

More methane fluffs.

"Right, that's it, he's allllll yours." Ironhide picked up Sabre from his lap, stood up, jogged to Ratchet, and dumped his precious cargo in the medic's surprised arms.

"What?! HIDE! I'm not a sparkling-sitting service!" Ratchet juggled Sabre in his hands.

"Too bad!"

BLAT! BLAT! BLAT!

:FART:

"He's yours, not mine!" Ratchet insisted, and swiftly handed Sabre back in one slick move. Ironhide had no choice but to accept or Sabre would've been dropped on the floor.

:FART:

BLAT!

Ironhide growled menacingly down at the naughty sparkling, "Sabre, enough! No more! NO! That's an order!"

Bumblebee leaned across to Jazz and whispered, "Did I used to do things like that?"

"Oh yeah, stupid stuff. But not so much of the muffler fluffs. You liked playing sounds too." Jazz patted a hand to Bee's cheek. "You were so _cute_."

"Something is wrong with you, Jazz," Prowl muttered quietly, rolling his optics. Maybe he needed to be... what was that thing the humans did to their male animals to control their urges to reproduce? He searched the internet. Oh yes. Gelded.

"What on Cybertron is going on in here?!" Optimus Prime's intimidating frame stood in the doorway. His blue optics darted their demanding gaze around the room.

Sabre turned his head. He was hanging in the air directly between Ratchet (who had his hands up to deny that Sabre should be given to HIM) and Ironhide (who DID have Sabre and was also denying that he should HAVE him).

Sabre didn't care that his sire was there for him. He was having fun! More 'blat's and farts came from him.

Ironhide growled, stomped across to Optimus, and held out the manic sparkling. "Yours!"

BLAT! BLAT! BLAT!

Sabre tried to fart too, but he found his reservoir was dry. Despite some determined straining, he was empty. His mouthplates pouted with disappointment. But Optimus' keen olfactory sensors had already picked up the distinct tell-tale aroma of Sabre's butt burps.

"Sabre..." he sighed, looking down his mechling. "I must apologise for Sabre, he is reaching a stage where is finding out how to misbehave."

BLAT! BLAT!

Prime's wide shoulders sagged and he sighed at Sabre's well-timed example of such behaviour.

"So how do you stop him, Sir?" Prowl inquired with interest.

Optimus blinked, shifting Sabre so he was held in the bend of one arm. "I find Elita and hand him over. What else?" His large frame turned around and he left the rec room. The amazed mech's (the great Optimus Prime was admitting defeat over a SPARKLING?) could still hear Sabre's 'BLAT's and Prime's voice chastening him, 'no, no, Sabre, you shouldn't do that, let's find Elita, she can make you stop'.

"Bee." Ironhide approached Bumblebee's position, his expression like thunder.

The Camaro shrieked, covered his head with his arms and sprinted from the room, wailing "SorrySorrySorry!".

"Don't forget 'my bad', Bee!" Jazz called out helpfully.


	14. Chapter 14

**Scent of the Future**

Authors Note: I'm deliberately making this fic 'Autobot-centred'. Meaning, very little or next-to-none human action or involvement. Not much Sam, Mikaela or Lennox. So for those who are wondering where they are, that's why. I WILL do one chapter which has some of the reactions of the humans to Sabre. I think that will be fun!

**Chapter 14**

Optimus Prime sat at his desk, pondering over some of the reports their Government Liaison; SecDef Keller; had sent him. Brooding, he rubbed at his cheek. Among the great worries sequestered inside his overburdened CPU (apart from Megatron being destroyed, along with the Allspark, living on an alien planet, yada, yada) was the worry that – the Autobot race had been so run-down and depleted, that his message to the stars may have been sent to exactly a mere handful of Cybertronian survivors; be they Autobot OR Decepticon.

Perhaps all of the surviving Autobots were already here. Maybe there were no more landings or communications because there was no one else...

:squeak:

Prime looked sideways at the small noise. Sabre – sitting up proudly on his desktop, all upright and self-important on his little aft, with his feet stuck out in front of him – was holding out a blank datapad to him questioningly. The sparklings head tilted sideways. Sabre's bright blue optics (just like his own) looked intently at him. Elita had told him that Sabre's expressions when he was concentrating were startlingly close to his own. Picture perfect. Optimus didn't know what he looked like, but if it was anything as cute as Sabre was looking now, the Decepticons should have surrendered long ago, unable to resist such cuteness; full-grown mech, or no.

Optimus smiled, looking at his very own sparkling. Sabre could always make his spark lift and be overcome with happiness; even when he was naughty. "Thank you, Sabre, that's very thoughtful of you." He accepted the datapad, patted Sabre's head, and put the extra pad down in another pile to his right, then went back to his report reading.

:squeak, click, click:

Sabre had another datapad clutched in his hands.

Squashing a sigh (his mechling was only trying to help) Prime graciously accepted it, said thank you, and placed it in the spare pad pile again, then shot a glance at his son. Sabre's faceplates shone with happiness. He was helping! The sparkling rocked back and forth on his aft.

Shaking his head with a smile, the Autobot Commander went back to work. Most times, Sabre got bored and curled up in a ball on his desktop to have a recharge nap.

:squeak:

Optimus raised his head; sighed through his intakes; and put one hand under his chin. He looked down at Sabre holding yet _another_ datapad with a smirk. "Sabre, don't be so hasty with wanting to pick up those things. One day it might be YOU doing all this work. You will come to hate the sight of the silly things." He gently accepted the datapad. "No more, okay? I'm well stocked now, thank you, you're a very good helper."

Sabre nodded, got carefully to his feet (by placing his hands on the desk in front of him and slowly raising his hind end into the air), got upright, wobbled, and began walking slowly to the edge of his father's desk with his arms held out for balance.

Optimus held out a hand, "Need some help? I can lift you down."

Sabre clicked and batted his dad's hands away with a micro frown, shoving the large hand firmly back at Optimus. No help needed.

"Oh, no help, okay."

Sabre was becoming very independent. Prime watched him reach the end of the desk and crouch down. The sparkling crawled himself around so his feet hung over the edge of the desk; then he let go. He hit the ground with a strong thump and a grumble. Optimus leaned over to check on him. He was waiting for the day when Sabre bent a leg strut or broke something. But according to Ratchet, the body they had made for him was pretty indestructible when it came to Sabre antics.

"Everything okay?"

Sabre was sitting on his aft. He looked up, clicked, then got to his feet, using the desk leg for support. Optimus smiled at him then went back to work.

:tap, tap, tap:

Prime grinned at the nudges to his lower leg and leant back over the desk. He knew what Sabre had forgotten. "Yes?"

Sabre held his arms up imploringly. His optics wide.

"Oh. Okay. Teddy. Most important."

One enormous hand came down from above Sabre's head, and within its fingers was the prize – one huge brown teddy bear. A gift from Sam and Bumblebee. Prime allowed the bear to be extracted from his fingers.

"Look after him, okay?"

Sabre nodded, tucked the teddy under his arm (the bear was much too big for that, hence Sabre's arm sticking out at such an angle as to be almost horizontal) and wobbled his upright way across to the small recharge berth set up at Sabre-height in the corner of the office. He climbed onto it, positioned his teddy by shoving and grunting, lay himself down – and drifted off into recharge.

Optimus waited until Sabre was completely quiet before rising from his desk. He cursed some of his more ancient over-sized hydraulics for making so much noise. Taking soft steps he went across to the small berth and arranged a silver thermal blanket over his precious sparkling. Then he stood there. Lost in the moment of looking down at his innocent son curled up and recharging. Such a small bundle of grey metal and wires. He tried to imagine what sort of body Sabre would chose for his final upgrade, but that was a long time into the future, and he still had another two body changes to go through yet. And would he chose something that was similar to his own? Or would he want to be completely different?

Sabre hadn't even begun to chose his colors yet, sticking to his grey protoform coloring without any adjustments. He didn't seemed fussed at all with changing what he looked like. Ratchet had advised them that sparklings made their own decisions about that – except for sparklings like Ironhide who had gone even darker and chosen pure BLACK.

Ironhide had overheard that and made several retaliatory pokes in Ratchet's shoulder with one stiff finger, growling about some medical 'bots choosing stupid greenish puke colours, like their patients didn't produce enough of that already.

He smiled faintly, remembering Sabre shrieking with joy at seeing other Earth trucks just like his own alternate form. He allowed himself to feel some pride in the fact that Sabre might just chose to be the same as he was. And that brought him to another priority – discussing the possibility with his sparkmate about producing another sparkling. Would Elita be agreeable? She might accuse him of using the 'femmes must reproduce since we have no Allspark!' argument.

...but it wasn't that at all.

His love and pride in Sabre was so huge he often struggled to keep all of the emotion within his chest casing. He couldn't remember how he'd ever found enough joy in life to continue functioning before Sabre had arrived. Sure, he had purpose. And duty. But what was that without meaning and pure love? He felt like he'd walked around for most of his life with his optics welded shut, and only Elita had ever been able to open them a fraction, and then Sabre had blasted them wide apart completely.

He would love to have another sparkling with her. Only her. He had a need in his chest that pushed at him daily, such a strong desire that he couldn't ignore for much longer.

He bent his legs – wincing at the creaking metal - and crouched down next to Sabre's makeshift berth. One of his fingers reached out to ever-so-softly touch the side of Sabre's helmet armor without disturbing him. He stroked very gently, smiling.

"Optimus? Sir?"

"Huh?" Prime blinked and looked up. He stood upright. Prowl was standing in the office doorway.

"I knocked several times, but you were not answering. Sorry for startling you, Sir." Prowl stood up stiffly. The mech's optics moved from his Commanders face to the recharging sparkling. "Oh." Prowl's voice hushed. "Offline?"

"Yes." Optimus straightened himself up further and waved a hand, indicating for them to take this outside. Prowl took the hint, moving out of the door and into the hallway. Optimus partially slid the office door closed behind them. "Now, what can I help you with, Prowl?"

"We've had contact with some more Autobots."

Optimus had to forcibly choke back a yell of 'WHAT' or 'About time!'. "Who from?"

Prowl steeled himself and began to carefully explain, "As far as we can make out – you know some of these codes may have been-"

Optimus interrupted him, putting his hands on his hip plates, "Yes, yes – who?"

Prowl smiled wryly, "Ultra Magnus and Wheeljack."

Prime blinked rapidly. This was wonderful news! He wanted to yell, dance, and grin non-stop for the next month or two. Maybe a couple of 'thumbs up' like the humans were wont to do, as well.

But... those two... _together_?! They couldn't stand each other. Wheeljack was a happy spark. Sociable, wistful, imaginative, enthusiastic, somewhat clumsy... civilian. Magnus was... not. If the big blue, red, and white mech hadn't completely driven his forehead plates in by bashing them against the nearest wall from being forced to listen to Wheeljack's happy non-stop warbling concerning all the wonderful new inventions he could make on their new planet, Optimus would be surprised.

"Ah, good. I could use Magnus down here. Not that you and Jazz aren't helpful, Prowl," Optimus smiled, resting his hand on Prowl's shoulder.

Before Prowl could answer, they were startled by a brown furry shape being chucked forcibly through the small gap in the office door. The teddy skidded on its back for a short distance before crashing into the opposite wall. Two pairs of adult mech optics looked down simultaneously at a short grey arm poking through the door and un-successfully attempting to slide back the heavy door further.

Optimus laughed, reaching out and easily pushing back the door for his sparkling. "That was a short nap, Sabby. Did we wake you?"

Sabre huffed, looked up at them, grunted, and walked unsteadily across to pick up his teddy. He was busy.

"Should we tell Ultra Magnus and Wheeljack the happy news before or after they land, Sir?" Prowl enquired with a barely concealed grin.

"Oh, after." Optimus indulgently watched as Sabre picked up his teddy and squashed his face into it while making his patented 'raspberry' noises and giggling. "Surprises are always better up close."

_**Four days later, close to midnight...**_

"They're late. I can't keep Sabre up much longer." Elita stroked Sabre's back soothingly. He was woozily recharging in her arms with his face pushed into her forearm, sniffling, bleeping and wriggling lazily. Bumblebee and Jazz had been trying to keep him occupied but he had eventually insisted on being cuddled by Elita. Mum was always best.

"ETA, 3.4 Earth minutes, Elita. They'll be breaking the stratosphere barrier soon," Prowl helpfully informed her. His dark shape with white highlights blended perfectly into the background next to the glaring sparkly silver form of his berth partner, Jazz.

"Aww, Sabre, are we keeping you up?" Ironhide leaned across Ratchet to reach out a finger and scratch affectionately at Sabre's helmet. "It'll be pretty though. Ultra Magnus is a big aft mech, he'll make a nice big comet trail for you."

"So will Wheeljack," Ratchet muttered worriedly, staring up into the night sky, "Especially with all his uncontrolled zigzagging and crashing." The medic had all of his equipment and scanners on standby. 'Jack was certain to break something or other.

"Here they come!" Sunstreaker's yell and pointed arm alerted them.

Sideswipe began clapping, "Go for it, guys!"

The rest of them could barely make out anything, but younger optics always were better at seeing great distances. Bumblebee shooed back his human charges (Sam, Mikaela and Captain Lennox) out of possible debris or fire range caused by the incoming comets (he had been stricken with worry over learning how close Sam and Mikaela had been to Prime's comet form when it landed originally).

As Ratchet had proclaimed, the larger comet in front was making a smooth straight run to land in the paddock behind the base, unlike the smaller one behind it which was varying its course every few seconds and appearing _very_ off-target. Knowing how hard it was to steer their comet forms off a reasonably straight line, Ratchet was not surprised that Wheeljack was the only one that could manage it.

Sabre came fully online instantly. His optics widened at the incoming glowing orange things. Elita stepped sideways to stand closely against her sparkmate. Optimus' optics moved from tracking the new arrivals to watching the reaction of his sparkling, who had never seen such a thing. Sabre's optics shone brightly, now fully awake. His hands dug tightly into Elita's forearm armor. Squeaking, he pointed one arm at the glowing comets.

"That's Ultra Magnus and Wheeljack, sweetie. They're our new arrivals." Elita kissed the side of his head, smiling at Optimus sliding one long arm around her shoulders. Both of them watching the new mech's make their final approach to the ground.

Sabre shuddered and quickly hid his face in Elita's chest at the big 'BOOM' Ultra Magnus made when his protoform met the ground first and buried himself in a cocoon of dirt. Smoke, water vapour, debris and heat came up off the metallic elongated sphere in waves.

"HIT THE GROUND! TAKE COVER!" Ratchet shrieked as the uncontrollable form of Wheeljack tore much too low over the head's of the greeting party. Wheeljack had made an unexpected sharp turn towards them. The CMO dove for safety, rolling and tumbling out of the way. Better safe than wrecked...

Bumblebee didn't bother with words. He scooped up Sam, Mikaela and Lennox and high-tailed it in the opposite direction. His yellow legs flashed in the darkness as he tore along.

Optimus pulled Elita and Sabre down to the ground quickly, leaning over them with his bulk and eyeing off Wheeljack shooting by overhead.

"_Primus_... Jack! Crazy mech!" Ironhide bellowed.

The Autobot Commander cringed when Wheeljack collided with the ground much, _much_ too close to their group.

Apart from the hissing and creaking of over-heated-now-cooling mechanics, there was silence as the protoforms rested for a few moments. Ultra Magnus' was the first to begin moving. His comet mode began sliding and clicking into a more recognisable shape until finally he was crouching on one bent knee as his basic unarmored protoform within the hole in the ground he'd made with his hands on the ground in front of him. His intense blue optics glowed at a slant up at the group standing over his crater.

Sabre clicked eagerly, bouncing up and down on Elita's cradling arm.

Magnus' protoform optics went wide at the sight of the group in front of him. His head lifted. Slowly he rose up to his full height, heavily built arms and legs un-folding and lengthening. Sabre squealed, gripping Elita's chest armor with fright. Now he was getting worried, that thing was bigger than his sire! This did not look like something he wanted to play with!

"It's alright Sabby, he won't hurt you. He's a friend," Optimus smiled faintly, watching his City Commander take curious stock of who and what was around him. "A very old friend." Sabre grabbed at his dad's hand where it patted his head and held it in front of his face protectively.

"YOU STUPID, HALF-SPARKED, USELESS EXCUSE FOR A MECH! What kind of dumb aft navigating was THAT?! You almost hit us!"

Ratchet's shouts of fury and Wheeljack's accompanying squeals of pain caused the group to turn their optics and audios on the poor newly arrived inventor. Wheeljack was crouching in his semi-crater, arms helplessly covering his head as Ratchet growled, cursed, and slapped.

"You idiot!" :slap: "You complete SLAGHEAD!" :slap, slap: "How DARE you?!"

Wheeljack's digital Cybertronian words were high-pitched but extremely apologetic. Only the Autobots had any clue what Wheeljack was saying. The humans gathered closely around Bumblebee's feet could only guess.

Ratchet paused, his air intakes hissing to cool his core systems down.

Wheeljack ducked his head and stepped sideways out of his hole away from Ratchet.

The medic growled, huffed and started towards the inventor. Just as 'Jack began to get his legs together to run, Ratchet grabbed him by the shoulder. Wheeljack froze in place, cringing. Optimus Prime prepared himself to forcibly separate them. While everyone was expecting more violence on Ratchet's behalf, they were to be disappointed.

Ratchet tugged the wobbly legged inventor into a rough embrace. "You fool. I'm glad you made it."

Wheeljack sighed and rested his chin on Ratchet's shoulder weakly, returning the 'mech-hug' and causing the rest of the group to laugh at his thankful expression.

Optimus released his sparkmate and sparkling to walk forwards and offer Wheeljack his hand in greeting. "Welcome back to us, Wheeljack. We've been much in need of your expertise. I'm glad you made it safely."

The engineer/inventor grinned and nodded, taking his Commander's hand and pumping it enthusiastically. "Thanks Optimus." His voice, now speaking in english, sound like a working class Englishman straight out of London.

Sabre interrupted the reunion with a wild scream of fright. He was frantically trying to climb over Elita One's shoulder in fear. Ultra Magnus; who had been approaching the group; halted abruptly and backed up slowly with his hands held out in front of him in surrender. Sabre was petrified of the giant mech.

"Sabby, Sabby, it's okay, he won't hurt you, really, that's just Magnus," Elita tried her best to calm him down with shushes and coos, but the little mech was quite freaked. He wriggled and cried, not liking this at all. The mechling was over-tired and not prepared to be greeting new friends in the middle of the night.

Ultra Magnus for his part was absolutely shocked and intrigued at seeing Optimus Prime's long lost sparkmate alive and well, and better yet, with what appeared to be a _sparkling_ in her arms. He backed up another few steps and stood still. Not knowing what to do next.

"Don't move, Magnus," Ironhide advised quietly, crossing his arms and observing the frantic sparkling in Elita's arms.

"Sabre, it is really okay. You're acting like poor Magnus is a Decepticon." Optimus helped Elita soothe their freaking out mechling. He offered his hand to Sabre and the sparkling took it, burying his face in it and whining. "Give him here," Optimus carefully lifted his upset son from Elita and held him to his own chest, hopeful that the closeness of his spark would affect him. Thankfully, it did, and Sabre quietened down, allowing himself to take quick snatched looks at the intruder around his Dad's encompassing arm.

"Can we go and say hello now?" Optimus asked quietly, stroking Sabre's back. "It wouldn't be very nice if we didn't."

Sabre hesitated but nodded ever so slightly, bracing himself. Cautiously, Optimus began to approach the larger mech. "See, it's okay." He halted one arms length in front of Magnus.

The newly arrived mech was staring at the sparkling being held by his Leader. He just couldn't believe it. From the way Optimus was acting, this sparkling had to be his. His optics lifted to blink curiously at Prime's.

Optimus Prime smiled softly at his friend. "Welcome to Earth, Ultra Magnus." He patted Sabre's back when he whined and shuddered. "And yes, this sparkling does indeed belong to Elita and I. He was sparked only a few Earth months ago. Say hello to my son, Sabre."

Small worried optics met large widened adult optics. The newly arrived large mech shifted in his stance, cocking his head slightly. He prepared himself to say something but was beaten to it by Sabre.

The mechling had gathered his courage to let out one loud sound.

:BLATTTTTTTTT!:

A patented Sabre raspberry.


	15. Chapter 15

**Scent of the Future **

**Authors Note:** This chapter has been removed and edited since I made a HUGE mistake by Ultra Magnus saying to Optimus "You did not mention the Allspark being destroyed in your message to the stars" when he CLEARLY said that at the end of the movie in his message! I've watched the movie upwards of 50 times (no joke) and my sponge of a brain should have pointed that out to me. Nevermind, all fixed now! Thank you _**shadowcat**_ for reviewing and pointing out my mistake. Fixed now! Author has kicked her own aft over that one.

**Chapter 15**

"Sabre! You shouldn't do that! No!" A startled Optimus held his sparkling up in front of his face, dangling him by the armpits, but it was too late. Sabre was getting revved up. His little sparkling face was shining with mischief.

:BLAAAAAAATTTT!:

He raspberried Optimus too; just to make things even and not play favorites. Optimus sighed, looking defeated. Sabre looked delighted with himself.

The gathered Autobots were stunned at Sabre's greeting to the 'Greatest Autobot Warrior' that had ever functioned. Sabre himself had perked right up in his sire's arms, looking confident, head held high, all bright optics and I'm-bigger-and-better-than-you gusto; did a raspberry back at his sire too; then his courage sank and he snuggled shyly back into Prime's chestplates with a squeak.

Optimus Prime was a bit too stunned to speak. This wasn't how he'd imagined introducing his sparkling son to someone as important as Magnus would go.

"Primus... Magnus is going to throw Sabre in the brig for that!" Prowl murmured in awe.

"As if. I'd whip his scrawny aft for touching my Sabby." Jazz growled, puffing out his chest and folding his arms over it haughtily. Nevermind that Jazz was fully one quarter Ultra Magnus' size and didn't have a hope of even getting him to not stand on his foot and wonder what the ground was so lumpy for.

"Nah, he'll be right." Ironhide smirked. "I doubt Magnus even knows what a 'raspberry' is. He's too much of a tight-aft. He'll just think Sabre is playing around with random noises."

Elita One spluttered laughter into her hands over her mouthplates. Her sparkling had super-sized bolts for guts. What a champion. She kept watching as her mate stood there blinking, while Ultra Magnus made a serious face, straightened his stance and looked down sternly at Sabre in Prime's arms.

"Is that a standard Earth greeting? Perhaps I should respond in-kind." Ultra Magnus dead-pan response in Earth English set the other Autobots guffawing or nervously cackling.

Optimus Prime sighed. "I apologise Magnus, he learnt that sound just _recently_-" Prime made glaring optics at Bumblebee, who looked down at his feet and appeared ashamed, "and now it is very hard to stop him from doing that." Optimus did a quick air sampling through his intakes, testing the air, "At least his other end is silent tonight."

Ultra Magnus watched with curious optics as Optimus propped Sabre up in one arm so he could extend his hand warmly in greeting. The two mech's shook happily, Magnus keeping one optic on Sabre, waiting for more strange sounds. He didn't know that much about sparklings, the only one he'd had contact with had been Bumblebee, and even then, not that much.

"Congratulations, Optimus. Sabre is..." Magnus went silent, trying to find the right word, "sweet." The large mech finally broke out with a smile. "You must be proud."

Elita One slinked up and poked her head around her sparkmates bulk, "He only did half the work, you know. Sparkling's don't come as a kit from the local store."

"Elita!" The smile on Ultra Magnus' face broadened, "I'm so relieved you're safe," his grin turned into a lopsided smirk, "and back with the head lugnut."

"Prowl, is our brig currently empty and ready for a new occupant?" Prime retorted over the 'lugnut' comment.

"Uh... yes, Sir?" Prowl responded, confused. He didn't really understand sarcasm, it made his battle computer falter and struggle to come up with the most logical answer. He DID fully understand the sight of Sunstreaker and Sideswipe ducking behind him and Ironhide for safe shelter from Ultra Magnus. The Twins had been ordered into the lock-up by the City Commander more than once. He did not put up with their antics as kindly as Optimus did.

Optimus shook his head, handing over a wriggling Sabre to his femme. Elita took Sabre back and rubbed her noseplates with his, getting him to squeal and shriek while Prime and Magnus looked on – Optimus full of love and pride; a still stunned Magnus watching a femme and sparkling together for the first time in countless eons.

"Now Sabre, what did I say about doing that noise, hmm?" Elita frowned at her errant sparkling. She perched him in her left arm, looking down into his face.

Sabre's optics went wide and he slapped both of his hands over his mouthplates, like she'd taught him, silencing himself.

Elita smiled with satisfaction, "Exactly. Please do that every time you feel like indulging yourself with offensive noises."

Sabre nodded mutely.

"Tough femme..." Sunstreaker murmured with admiration.

Sideswipe nodded, "Harsh." They still hadn't left Ironhide's protection, sticking close to him, irritating the black mech no end. He kept wanting to check if rude notes had been stuck to his aft plates, but he wasn't going to let them know he was so wary.

"SPARKLING?!" Wheeljack appeared behind Elita One. He'd missed most of the conversation, being caught up in talking with Ratchet and congratulating each other on still being functional. He looked sharply up at a smiling Optimus Prime. "Yours?!" he squeaked.

Optimus put a gentle hand on Elita's shoulder. Sabre chirped up at him. "Yes, Wheeljack. Mine and Elita's. His name is Sabre."

"Primus!" Wheeljack was quite awed at seeing a young one again. "Ratch, have you scanned him? What've you got? What are the results? Where did he come from? How old is he? Are there any more?" He walked around Elita in a tight circle, examining her and the sparkling she was holding. "Oh, this is good, now we're getting somewhere. A sparkling! AND a femme! Wonderful!"

A long groan of irritation came from Ultra Magnus. The big mech had placed one large hand over his optics in pain and was looking very long suffering. He'd obviously had quite enough of Wheeljack's questions and fascination with anything new. Optimus patted him on the shoulder. He understood. Wheeljack was an enthusiastic mech. Too much time with the mech could be disturbing to one's CPU. Only Bluestreak, Ratchet and a handful of others could tolerate his enthusiasm for long periods of time.

Elita One hugged Sabre closer, then on Wheeljack's forth inspection circle around her, she stuck out one foot. The excited mech stumbled over it and just barely regained his balance. He looked at the femme with surprise. Elita growled. "Wheeljack, you blow ANYTHING up; anything at ALL; around my sparkling and I will strip you of each and every piece of armor you are wearing – yes, _including_ down there," the other mech's all winced, except for Magnus and Ironhide, who laughed "– and throw the entire Autobot arsenal at you with NO regrets." She paused and put on a big smile. "Okay?"

Wheeljack's right optic began to flicker, and he backed up a few steps. "A-alright. Uh, I mean, yes Sir!"

"Ma'am," Elita snapped.

"Ma'am!" squeaked Wheeljack.

"Good. Thank you." Elita turned back around to direct a no-nonsense look at her sparkmate. "Optimus, get this lot rounded up and inside the base. It's getting late, Sabre is overdue for his recharge. Good night everyone." With that, she walked off to the base entrance, Sabre giggling and chirping.

The rest of the Autobots slowly followed after her. Ironhide growled and took swipes at Sunstreaker and Sideswipe as they walked too closely next to him, before darting ahead to avoid happy 'hellos' with Magnus. Optimus Prime and Ultra Magnus brought up the rear. The footsteps of the over-sized pair caused the ground to resonate and rumble.

"You could have been with Firestar. Or Moonracer - she's nice – but no," Magnus grinned with bright optics, watching where he was putting his feet, "you got the scary one. No one else. Only her."

Optimus cuffed his friend in the shoulder, "Magnus, old friend, you can recharge in the storage basement tonight. You should, after all, get to know the new base from the ground up."

"You wouldn't!"

Prime smiled slowly, walking along companionably, "Of course I wouldn't. I'd get Ironhide to drag you down there, I'm late enough for my recharge as it is."

"Fragger..." Magnus muttered with a grunt, beginning to move ahead with long strides; he was one of the few bots with longer legs than his Leader.

Optimus ground to a halt. This playful banter had to stop. "Magnus."

The larger mech stopped, looking back over one shoulder. "Yes?"

"...the Allspark..." Optimus looked down at the ground, his optics dimming as he struggled with what were the right words to use to explain what had happened to it. He was comfortable with explaining with bold words and reassurance to his friends and regular soldiers about the destruction of their most precious artefact, but with Magnus - he didn't want to be judged and found wanting. He DID want someone to confide in, someone with more discipline of self than Ironhide, and more in control of their anger (ie. no wrench throwing) than Ratchet. Magnus was an excellent solider and reliable sub-commander.

"It... I... Megatron..." he shook his head hard, his optics a blue blur in the night at the movement. "It's gone."

Ultra Magnus turned around fully. His optics glowed evenly. "I know. Your message said that."

Optimus' head lifted, "Yes, but... I failed."

Ultra Magnus shook his head wearily, "You did not fail. Destroying the cube was probably the best course of action, you may have ended the war. No Allspark to fight over, no fighting, hence, no more deaths." He looked around at their surroundings, night-vision easily picking out the features of their environment. "Do you think we'd be able to stand here and have a nice conversation in peace if the Allspark was still intact? Of course not. We'd be being incinerated and bombarded by ruthless Decepticons trying to take the Allspark back. We'd have it, then they'd have it, we'd get it back, they'd TRY to get it back – it would never have stopped. Destroying it was the only way to stop the madness."

Optimus felt some of the burden on his chest lift. "We almost lost..." his expression was painful, "the Allspark was destroyed when we shoved it into Megatron's chest. There was no other option at the time. Both or neither."

"I accept that." Magnus walked closer. "I think the other troops do too. We believe in you and trust you. This is the best chance we have had in eons to just _live_." He smiled softly, "And with your Sabre, our species is not lost yet."

Optimus matched optics with his friend with a wane smile, "You've always been good at bolstering confidence, Magnus."

The newly arrived mech shrugged, then smiled impishly, "That is what your army is here for. Make you feel big and powerful, then shove you out into the worst mess that needs fixing and hope to pit that you kick aft and come back to us."

"On that sweet note, I think I'll go join 'Lita in recharge," Optimus chuckled. He now felt lightened of his worst worries and simple tiredness was settling in. "Thank you Magnus."

"You're welcome." Ultra Magnus watched him walk past. He was relieved to be once again in the company of his friend and Commander. He had never looked forward to leading a ravaged Cybertron in an impossible struggle against an Allspark-bearing Decepticon army. "Oh, wait, one more thing – where are my quarters?"

"Two doors down from mine." Optimus called back. "Follow me."

"Right." Magnus jogged after him, hoping not to get lost. First thing after some recharge, he needed to find an alt form to scan.

_**Next morning...**_

Elita One's hand pushed weakly at her alert sparkling to make him back off. The sparkling was far too alert for so early in the morning. "Sabre.. stop that... go back into recharge," she mumbled. Sabre was kneeling next to her on the recharge berth and poking at her face. Her un-coordinated swats at his pointed finger were fun. He giggled. And poked again. The mechling had learnt to crawl off his own small recharge berth and climb up onto her and Optimus when his recharge programs finished. Elita's sparkmate had already risen and left to go converse with Ultra Magnus.

"Retrorat..." Elita grumbled, finally giving in and sitting up with tiredly blinking optics. Sabre clicked happily and got himself onto her lap. He sat his aft down with his hands on her knees and bounced playfully.

"Vroom, vroom!"

"Yes," Elita smiled and patted his head, "vroom, vroom. How can you be up so early when you went into recharge late? Please don't tell me you're going to be just like Optimus and make a habit out of rising before dawn." She wiped a hand over one optic wearily. "C'mon, lets get you some energon. You're burning it up much faster than you used to." The femme clambered off the large berth with her sparkling in her hands.

Sabre made quick work of his morning energon. He'd barely slurped down the last of it when he began climbing from her lap (he was getting to the stage of holding the cup by himself now, although Elita had to be ready to grab the cup when he'd finished, since instead of putting it down on the ground, he released his fingers and let it drop, eager to move on to the next thing he wanted to do).

"Sabre, wait, no, no," Elita pulled him back up again, getting an annoyed squeal from the anxious mechling. She made him sit while she wiped his face of dribbled energon, then placed him firmly down on the floor. "Right, let's go and find the others. Maybe there is someone in the rec room who can look after you for a while, hmm?"

She exited their quarters and walked slow enough down the corridor so that Sabre's short strides could keep up. He still lost his balance occasionally. His internal gyro's would swing too far to one side and not correct themselves quickly enough to stop him from falling on his aft. Elita heard loud mech voices coming from the rec room ahead. She frowned, "They can't be..."

Poking her head in the doorway, she was confronted by Optimus, a protoform Magnus, Ironhide, and Ratchet all drinking what appeared to be _high grade_ around one of the rec room tables. Ironhide already had three empty containers in front of him, Ratchet had two, and Optimus was keeping up with him – the Leader had two.

Ratchet caught sight of the femme staring at them first. He straightened up, nudging Ironhide's leg under the table, muttering "Uh oh..."

"Huh?" Ironhide cocked an optic ridge at his friend. "What are you..." his optics landed on a now frowning Elita who had her arms folded and was standing in the doorway appearing very displeased. Sabre hung onto her knee, chirping and looking for Optimus.

The Femme Commander walked forwards slowly. Sabre kept up with her, but then he saw his Dad and headed straight for him. With agile hands and feet, he climbed straight up his sire to reach his shoulder and perch there happily. He squeaked a greeting, sitting down so his legs hung down his Dad's chest.

"Morning Sabby! How did you get here? Did Elita-" Prime stiffened when his optics landed on the not-so-happy face of his bonded standing behind Ratchet. "Oops..."

While Ultra Magnus stared with wide optics at Sabre perched on his Leader's shoulder like a monkey, Elita grabbed up Ratchet's drink and took one look inside the container. She frowned. "High grade? At this time of the morning?"

Optimus ducked his head, almost tipping Sabre off his shoulder. "Well, uh, see... umm..."

"Elita, we were just celebrating Optimus becoming a sparkling progenitor." He smiled sheepishly, "Among other things.."

"Like, we're all alive instead of being dead and used for parts to assemble Megatron's throne or something?" Ironhide inserted hopefully.

Ratchet smacked him in the back of the head lightly, "Dumb aft."

"But we are!" Ironhide insisted.

Optimus was keeping his head down and his hands meekly held around his drink. He looked up carefully at Elita from under his optic ridges. Elita looked back at him, studying her blue and red flamed mech. Her face softened.

"We never did celebrate you becoming a sire, did we?" she said softly.

Prime saw his chance. "No, but then, we have been busy, and you know, Sabre was sick, and..." he shrugged, "Ironhide and Magnus were in the room when I got here, and 'Hide had some high grade spare – you know he has that in the morning anyway - so..."

Elita made a show of rolling her optics. ""Alright, alright, stop with the crawling. I won't yell." She leaned down and brushed her mouthplates over his cheek, "Enjoy your mech get-together, guys. But don't forget all the other things we need to do today, yes?"

A chorus of 'yeah', 'of course' and 'yes ma'am' came back at her.

She smiled faintly, "Look after Sabre for me, and DON'T let him get into the high grade!"

"Never! Of course we won't!" Ratchet scoffed, knowing he'd be cleaning up the ejected energon if Sabre guzzled some big mech drinks. Not to mention watching over the sick and sorry mechling in his medbay for the next day or two.

Sabre let loose a loud raspberry at that idea, waving one hand.

"Hands over mouth!" Elita demanded immediately, watching with satisfaction as Sabre looked suitably bashful and slapped one hand after the other over his mouth.

Ratchet laughed, "You know, we should have thought of teaching Ironhide to do that too a long time ago. Some of the things that come out of his mouthplates deserve smothering as well."

Ironhide smacked him, growling.

"Mmm. One all. One smack each..." Ultra Magnus murmured, looking at the ceiling, sipping his drink and staying out of it. Merely happy to back with his friends and not under direct threat of being wiped out by Megatron.

Optimus watched his sparkmate smile at all of them, then turn on one heel and leave, her long legs taking her out the door in a blur of chrome and rose red armor. She really was a beautiful femme. He was very lucky that she wanted him as much as he wanted her, relationships were never an exact science. He put one hand under his chin dreamily. He desperately desired another sparkling... and Elita seemed to be in a good enough mood for him to ask about it. Her end of their sparkbond was warm and glowing. He sent her a deep loving pulse and she responded straight away with her own, lighting up his spark.

Maybe tonight. If the day went well. He'd ask...

**NEXT:** How does Optimus attempt the subject of 'Honey, please give me another sparkling?'. Does he get shot in the crotch? And if there is another one coming, will it be a mech or femme?


	16. Chapter 16

**Scent of the Future **

**Chapter 16**

**Later that day, evening time in the base rec room...**

Elita One watched her sparkling closely. He was sitting in Ultra Magnus' lap and making his usual happy noises (apart from the raspberry one, the tiny mechling knew better than to even TRY that when his Mom was around). Magnus; for his part; didn't quite know what to do with the sparkling. He'd never handled one before. He was staring down at Sabre like someone had dropped a Decepticon's dismembered head in his lap.

Optimus Prime sat on the other side of the rec room table, chin propped in one hand, clean armor glistening under the ceiling lights, lazily watching one of his oldest friends with his newly sparked son. He was pondering wether asking Elita for another sparkling was a good idea. He had been hoping to ask her when they went back to their quarters for the night, but now he was getting nervous. What if she said no? Would she get angry? How did bots approach their femme about this sort of thing? They had never discussed multiple sparklings. Just 'a' sparkling. Would she resent being asked to 'produce' another sparkling for him? Maybe he'd set off the whole, 'make-sparklings-to-save-our-species' argument. His optics re-focused on Sabre across the table.

"You won't hurt him, Magnus. You can touch him." Optimus tried to re-assure the nervous mech.

"Reminds me of someone else who didn't dare handle him either," Elita said playfully, one optic ridge rising at the amusing memory.

Sabre whistled, craning his head around to look up at the mech he sat on. When he received no response from Ultra Magnus, he whistled again, adding in a few clicks.

"Uh... what is he saying?" Magnus asked with genuine puzzlement.

From the other side of the room, Ironhide answered first. "Why you're naked and don't have a proper alt form yet," the Weapons Specialist said lazily. He was leaning back in his chair (causing a bemused Jazz to make a bet with Prowl about when the chair would break) and watching the latest news broadcasts. Yet another serving of high-grade was cuddled between his hands on his abdominal plating.

A slight smile crossed Magnus' faceplates, "Tomorrow. I'll get one in the morning. Probably something like Prime's, if it's large enough."

That had not been Sabre's question though, and his small face looked aggrieved. He raised a hand and smacked it down on Magnus' thigh.

"Sabre, no!" Elita immediately leaned across and picked up her sparkling. "You should never hit other 'bots! That's naughty!"

Sabre growled, wriggling in Elita's grasp. He was getting tired. When he mewled, Elita gave in with a sigh, cuddling him to her chestplates and patting his back with a soft smile. Sabre chirped, closing the covers to his optics and curling up.

"Yeah Sabby, that's Optimus' job, don't make him redundant, he's too old to change career paths now," Ironhide remarked again.

"Don't you have some reports to do, or weapons to clean?" Optimus turned and glared suggestively at the black mech.

"Er..." Just about everyone could hear Ironhide's CPU whirring. "No."

Ultra Magnus was surreptitiously checking his lap to see if Sabre had left any deposits behind in it. He'd read the reports on Earth's inhabitants already. Animals sometimes left 'things' behind whenever they felt like it. Not having any knowledge of sparklings, he thought that it may apply to undergrown baby bots, too.

Optimus grumbled and crossed his arms. He felt like the target for every remark, prank, and idea in the base, lately. Apart from general base duties, everyone was idle. He was really wishing Barricade or Frenzy would do something that needed a response from them, just to go blow something up with his rifle. Then he got an idea. Something that would pay Ironhide back for his ego-wounding remarks and get him some sparkling-free time with Elita.

"Ironhide..." Optimus said in a pleasant voice. "Would you do me a favor?"

The big black mech turned in his chair, giving Optimus the 'wary optic' look. "A favor? For what?"

"Well, Ratchet said Sabre should learn to recharge in strange new places," Optimus grinned, realising just how well Ironhide qualified as a 'strange' place, "and since Sabre thinks of you as an alternate male progenitor, I think you're the perfect choice."

Elita's optics just about bulged out of their casings. Ratchet was sitting in the corner of the rec room; playing a Cybertronian version of chess with Wheeljack; looking confused. Those were not the exact words he had said to Optimus about Sabre, just a twisted version of them. Bumblebee shot both arms up in the air, waving them madly – he wanted Sabre to recharge in HIS room for the night! Jazz's shoulders sagged. He already knew Prowl would not allow Sabre to recharge with them unless it was a dire emergency. Hey, leaving the kid with Ironhide qualified as one, right?

Jazz leant to the side to murmur in Prowl's audio. "Prowl?"

"No."

"Just one night?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Please with high-grade bite-sized goodies on top?"

"What? No."

"Just for me? Extra special present? It won't even cost you anything to buy!"

"No." A small pause. He was sorry to say no to Jazz, but he just couldn't handle the idea of the sparkling recharging in their room for the night. "...No, Jazz."

"You like that word too much, you know that?" Jazz frowned, folding his arms and resting his head on them glumly. Damn it.

"Um, Optimus..." Elita stood up, sidling nervously close to her mate. "We haven't discussed this."

"What's there to discuss?" The Autobot Commander sent a private transmission to her, begging for some alone time. "And Ironhide has looked after a sparkling before. He brought up Bumblebee."

Elita's optics slid across to look Bumblebee up and down. The bot had all his arms and legs, head, nothing missing. He was a lovely, happy, mech. "But..."

"Optimus..." Ironhide rumbled dangerously.

Ironhide's tirade of refusal was blunted when Sabre suddenly wriggled his way out of Elita's arms, scrambled down her leg, and walked determinedly across to the Weapons Master. He wrapped his arms around Ironhide's bulky leg tightly and purred.

"I think you've got a new recharge buddy for tonight, 'Hide," Ratchet grinned, getting his digs in whenever he saw the opportunity. Oh, that little bot Sabre had a quirky sense of humor.

"Grrr. Yeah, yeah, alright. JUST tonight. No other nights, got it?" Ironhide informed a delighted Optimus. He reached down and lifted Sabre up, allowing the small bot to sit in his lap with his back to his chest, his short legs propped up on Ironhide's large thighs. A smaller version of Ironhide's laid back position. Bumblebee watched with curiosity, and a hollow feeling in his spark. He had a feeling he'd been replaced.

Elita One was silent. Optimus was sending urgent pleas over their sparklink. He really wanted something from her, and it didn't appear to be all about interfacing or spark merging. Her optics passed from Sabre back to those of her partner. His optics had that pleading look that she couldn't say no to.

She sent him a comlink message, _I will trust your judgement on this, as I always do, but you better explain yourself tonight_.

_I will_. Optimus' optics locked on hers. _Everything._

Elita nodded slightly, _And one of us must keep an emergency channel for Sabre open, in case something happens. _

The familiar authorative but kind touch of Optimus' end of their sparkbond caressed her, _Agreed_. _Thank you. _

They got Sabre settled down in Ironhide's quarters easily enough. Sabre didn't appear worried about being away from Optimus and Elita, his curiosity overcame his fear, and he trusted Ironhide's strong spark, as Optimus had predicted. Ratchet had leant on the door, offering his assistance and teasing Ironhide about having a sparkling around again. Ironhide had gruffly told the medic to "F-R-A-G off", spelling it so Sabre wouldn't know what that he was swearing.

With Sabre happily all set-up in Ironhide's room for the night, Optimus finally closed the door to his rooms and allowed himself a moment to rest his forehead on the closed door in front of him. He sighed. Don't mess this up! Think carefully!

"Optimus?" Elita's smooth female voice drew him around to face her where she was sitting on the immense recharge berth with her legs crossed in front of her. Her optics probed his. "You want something. What is it?"

He took slow measured strides across to the berth. Sat himself down. Turned his body around so he faced her. Arranged his reasons in his CPU. "Elita," his bright optics looked into hers, "I must first thank you for giving me, for giving _us_, Sabre."

Elita appeared surprised, "That's not something you need to say thanks for. He turned up no matter what we had to say about it." She reached out a hand and touched his shoulder gently, "What's really bothering you?"

Primus, here we go... "Sabre is just one sparkling." He looked down, fidgeted. "How many more do we want?"

"What?" Elita's expression was confused. Mixed. "You mean... we should have more sparklings?" It suddenly dawned on her what he was asking, at the same time as Optimus said it himself.

"I would love to have another sparkling with you. I'd like another one. Sabre is everything to me, I've come to realise how much he makes me feel that there really is something in this universe worth fighting for. Living for. As much as I believed it before he arrived, he has really made that come to life. Everything is about him now, what he wants or what he needs. And I like that." There. He'd said it. There was no mis-interpreting that one. "I want another sparkling, Elita. The question I'm asking is; do you?"

"Oh." Elita kept her face carefully neutral while she processed that. Of course she wanted another one. She didn't recall ever telling him that she wanted TWO. She'd thought that would scare him, so her mouthplates had been silent on the subject of 'how many'. She knew another one would be more work. From a military point-of-view, she didn't think she could stay on duty if she had TWO sparklings to care for (three, if she counted Optimus). But now was the best time. The Decepticons were quiet – if not GONE – and Earth was a peaceful planet.

"You don't have to answer me right now." He touched her cheek with his fingers, stroking. Her strong feminine face looking at him inquisitively. "I just... I've been waiting to ask you." His fingers fell away. "All I ask, is for you to think about it."

"The answer is yes."

Prime's head jerked in shock. "What?!"

Elita smiled, but there was something odd about it. Her optics locked onto his chestplates. "I say yes. Let's have another one. And let's do it right now." She reached out both hands to grab at his shoulders. One missed because she couldn't quite reach, clawing at the air. His hand came up to hold it.

"Right now? Elita! Holy Primus, that's great! But, have you really thought about it?!" He held her back as she eagerly tried to grab at him and push him onto his back. "Wait!"

"Yes, I want another one, and I want YOU right now too!" She pulled her hand free from his, leaning into his chest and nuzzling around his throat. "Why wait? Sabre would love a playmate, and since you have so kindly arranged for us to have some Sabre-free time, let's do it NOW."

"Elita!" Prime's CPU was reeling. He knew Elita was never one to be waiting around. She had very little patience for anything, especially when she knew what she needed or wanted was there to be taken.

"Oh, stop thinking and fussing, you great planner bot. And get these chestplates open, you've got work to do." She had succeeded in getting him laid out flat on his back, and was currently crawling up his larger body to perch herself on top of him.

"But... but... we need to tell Ratchet! We'll need another protoform, and he probably needs to examine you first, make sure everything is wor– OWWW! Mmmph!"

Elita had grabbed one hand onto his jaw and firmly shut it, cutting off his words. "If you don't hurry up and do what you do best, I'll go jump some other mech to do the deed for me."

Optimus' optics widened far enough to crack, and he nodded mutely.

The femme purred, and ran her mouthplates along the ridge of his cheek, "...Good. let's get started."

_**In Ironhide's quarters...**_

"Sabre, Sabby, no, don't touch that.. Primus, you'll blow yourself up," an exasperated Ironhide struggled to get a curious Sabre out of his storage cupboard, his hands reaching blindly around the mess to try and grab him. As soon as he pulled him out, the sparkling went back in. He had things in there that would cause Optimus to have a fit and Elita to blow his head off with what was in there.

Sabre was making happy whistling noises of discovery, his little aft sticking out and his head and arms going through the 'junk' on the cupboard floor.

"Slag," Ironhide stood back and rubbed at his forehead. He had a CPU ache of immense proportions coming on.

The mechling squeaked, sat back on his aft, and cuddled a soft square piece of cloth to his face that he'd pulled from under everything else.

"Oh. Bumblebee's thermal blanket." Ironhide stood behind Sabre and watched the mechling hug it. Warm memories of watching a tiny Bumblebee do the same thing flooded his processor. "You like that, huh?"

Sabre purred, clicking tiredly. He patted the silver blanket with one small hand. He liked it.

"Well, you can keep it, if you want. Bee liked it too, it was his." Ironhide picked up Sabre off the floor, blanket and all. "And I guess since you're the new sparkling, it should be yours." The large mech looked down at the mechling cuddling into his arm. He had imagined that the next sparkling the Autobots had might have been his, that he and Chromia would have been re-united by now. He hadn't thought of Optimus and Elita getting there first.

His spark dimmed sadly at the thought of his lost sparkmate. She was out there somewhere. He knew that. But where? And how long before they saw each other again?

He shook his head, not wanting to keep thinking of Chromia. It hurt too much. It was dangerous to his continued function.

"Time for recharge, little one."

Sabre rubbed his face into the blanket as Ironhide laid him down onto his small recharge berth, letting forth a loud raspberry, muffled by the cloth.

"HEY!" The big mech frowned, "Prime's kid, as the humans say. No manners.. you're going to be trouble, aren't ya?"

:BLAT:

Bumblebee quietly passed Ironhide's quarters, walking slowly down the hallway. He could hear Ironhide talking to Sabre, who was answering back with squeals and muted clicks. While he was happy to have a new sparkling in their ranks - especially the sparkling of Optimus and Elita - he could not deny the hurt in his own spark. He didn't want to show it. He'd never hurt Prime that way. But his spark was depressed. Grieving over his lost position as the 'special one'.

**NOTE: **Yes, Elita and Prime are, cough, BUSY right now. You can thank **optimus prime 007** for that. She convinced me to get another sparkling on the go, but this isn't going to go as smoothly as everyone thinks. Oh, and **Plenoptic** too, for poking me along. Mad sparkling lovers, the pair of them! LOL I will do another special chapter where Op and Lita do the deed for their new sparkling. Hmmm. All these special chapters this fic needs, what a monster.


	17. Chapter 17

**Scent of the Future**

Authors Note: Thanks go to _**optimus prime 007**_ for helping me with some perfecto ideas for this never-ending story! She has provided me with some firepower concerning how Elita and Optimus go about trying to create another sparkling, which is never an exact science.

This chapter contains some talk and innuendo about intimacies between a consenting couple (Optimus and Elita, of course!) without portraying the act itself. Be warned. Don't read it if you consider that sort of thing 'icky', or still believe in The Stork theory.

**Chapter 17**

_**Autobot Base, Earth, early morning...Prime and Elita's quarters. **_

"...Lita..."

"Mmm?"

"I hope there's... I mean, I hope we've... ugh..." Optimus Prime's over-sized mech body creaked as he shifted his aching and cramped chassis into a more comfortable position, "there better be a sparkling orb in there after all that or I'll put in for retirement!"

"Aww, sweetie," Elita One sat up from her position lying across his lower abdominal plating and petted him indulgently on the chest. "Did I wear you out?"

A long whining moan came from the stressed out, exhausted mech. He felt more tired than when he'd first stretched himself out on the recharge berth over six Earth hours ago. He hadn't known a femme could go so _hard_ at something considered an intimate and loving act. His fingers rubbed at his forehead. Oww. His shoulder hurt. He thought the chestplates over his spark would never allow themselves to be pulled open again in protest at the 'indignities' they had suffered. Yes, he had to admit that Elita had brought his pleasure to new heights, but his poor aching body was paying for it now. His optics peered downwards at his femme. She had rolled off him onto her side and was absorbed in touching her chestplates delicately.

"I dare not open this in case I do something wrong and upset the orb; if there's one in there. I think we should let Ratchet do it," she said, musing. Her optics met his. "It does ache though, just like last time when we got Sabre."

Optimus whimpered, placing both his hands over his face and groaning, "If there isn't, you'll need to let me recover for a week before we try doing _that_ again, femme."

Elita snorted, pointing one finger at him, "You big sparkling. You're the one that asked me for another one! Now I'm getting 'You're too hard, femme, you're wearing me out, femme!'." She smirked. "Big pansy – as the Earthlings say."

Optimus struggled to get himself upright. His strength had disappeared along with his dignity and self-control. Elita got onto her knees and helpfully pushed at him, shoving him along to get off the recharge berth, "C'mon, c'mon, get those legs moving soldier, we've got an appointment with the Hatchet."

The femme's lighter form scooted off the berth and got her onto her feet while her sparkmate sat on the edge of the berth looking totally run down and run over. Hands dangling between his thighs. Shoulders slumped. Even his optics were faded.

Elita started to feel a touch regretful at how demanding and athletic she had been, wincing at all the 'physical activity' she had put him through in her eagerness to complete her mission of creating another sparkling. Looking at his dull armor, scratched chassis, and obvious weariness made her spark throb within her chest.

"Oh Optimus... I'm sorry..." She placed the palm of her hand softly against his cheek. "I shouldn't have gone so hard."

Prime heaved a sigh dramatically, making sure he looked as pitiful as possible, getting the most out of her 'sympathy' – then wrapped both hands around her waist and pulled her over on top of him as he fell backwards onto the berth. He made sure to make her landing on top of him cushioned so as not to hurt any potential sparkling she may be already carrying within her chest. Elita shrieked at him, realising she'd been had.

"Gotcha!" He laughed into her shoulder, cradling her over his body while he lay on his back. "You don't think I'm that old and creaky do you?! I'm not a model due for replacement any time yet! You didn't hurt me that much."

"Lughead!" Elita squealed, smacking at him. She pushed her face into the armor of his chest and growled lightly, wriggling. "It's not nice to tease!"

"What? You don't think the mech that can go ten rounds with Megatron is broken and worn out after a little 'intimacy' duty?" Optimus mocked her, making sure to get his fingers into the spaces around her shoulders and tickling her wires. "Not likely!"

"Oww! Oww! Stop that! I give in!" Elita shrieked, clutching at him and smacking his armor with one free hand.

"Well, alright then." His hands stilled, lying flat on her shoulder blades. Both of them lay silent for a few moments before Optimus stretched out a little, thinking.

"...I wonder how Ironhide coped with Sabre last night?"

_**In Ironhide's room...**_

Ironhide twitched. Something was itching at his cheek. Without opening his optics or moving from his position on his back, he brushed at it absently, mumbling.

Sabre drew his hand back from poking at Ironhide's cheek. He sat on his aft upon the highest arch of Ironhide's broad chest, looking curiously at his caretaker. He wanted to know why the comforting black mech wasn't getting up and arranging his morning energon already.

Thinking he hadn't tried hard enough, the mechling leaned forward again and studied the composed recharging face of his friend, noseplates-to-noseplates. He squeaked questioningly.

No response.

He tapped at Ironhide's chin with one fist, and clicked urgently.

Still deep in his recharge programs, Ironhide grunted, swatted at the annoyance, and went still again. Totally oblivious.

Sabre whined. He wasn't happy with this. Usually, it was easy to wake up either of his progenitors when his recharge was finished. He climbed up onto their berth and a squeal or pat to either of them made them get up and attend to his needs. And his sire was always up early, sometimes he was leaning over his smaller recharge berth and waiting for him to come on-line. He cocked his head, studying the black mech he was sitting on. This one wasn't so easy. Maybe no one had turned his CPU on?

Alright then. Scooting further forward and re-routing most of his power cells to his vocal unit, Sabre braced himself for one big effort. Leaning over so his face was right in front of Ironhide's, Sabre opened his mouthplates, gathered all the power he could – and shrieked at top volume.

"ARRRRRGGGGHHHHHHHH!"

Ironhide's optics came on with a mighty surge and he gasped, "GAH!! WHAT?! What?!"

Sabre squealed as the black mech bolted upright looking around frantically for the source of the screaming, sending his small sparkling body tumbling down the wide black chest and heading for the floor.

"Sabre!" Thick mech hands grabbed at the mechling and stopped him, cupping his aft. "What are you _doing_, you crazy sparkling! Don't do that!"

Sabre raspberried him and grunted. He patted his tummy in explanation and looked sadly at Ironhide with big sad optics.

"Oh, alright, alright," Ironhide grumbled, cuddling Sabre to his chest while swinging his legs off the berth and standing up. "I'd forgotten how insistent sparklings are in the morning... should've known... Bumblebee was just the same. Little slagger." Ironhide winced, sighing. "Shouldn't have said that. No swearing around the mechling."

Sabre did more raspberries and patted his hands vigorously to Ironhide's chest, warbling and giggling. He'd made the mech get up!

Ironhide prepared his special morning energon and helped the sparkling to ingest it (most of it went in; Ironhide made the mistake of thinking Sabre had learnt to hold his special energon container himself – he hadn't – and he dropped it, and the contents, on the floor) then placed him on the ground to tumble around and amuse himself while he cleaned up the mess.

_**In the next residential section...**_

Bumblebee walked sedately down the hallway of the residential quarters. It was early, far earlier than he usually rose from his recharge programs. He was upset. Rattled by the fact that his guardians were now occupied by the newest sparkling to arrive in the Autobot ranks; Optimus and Elita's son, Sabre. He wished it didn't hurt. He wished he wasn't jealous. The others could not be allowed to know. He was ashamed at feeling this way because Ironhide was now clicking, playing and cooing at Sabre.

He didn't hate Sabre, he loved the little grease spot! He was adorable! It was just... it hurt to see the ones who had adored and showered attention on HIM now giving all that to someone else. He felt like he'd been passed by.

Feeling sullen, his steps slowing down automatically, he glanced sideways at the door to Ironhide's room as he passed it – then froze.

There was a light persistent tapping coming from the door. It wasn't coming from Ironhide-height either. This was lower down on the door. Much lower.

More tapping.

His optics brightening and throwing off some of his melancholy mood, Bumblebee carefully crouched so he was close to the floor, his elbows perched on his knees. His head tipped to the side, pondering.

The tapping stopped.

Reaching out a pointed finger, Bumblebee tapped out a coded message on the thick metal; something all Autobots knew how to interpret. _Hello, who are you?_ He had a feeling the 'tapper' on the other side wouldn't know how to answer it, but he tried it anyway.

A flurry of un-coordinated taps came back at him, total meaningless gibberish. Then a burst of tiny-bot-sized giggles. Bumblebee's faceplates shifted into a delighted expression. He knew exactly who that was...

Two tiny fists began to bang without mercy loudly on the other side of the door.

"Hey! Runt! Quit the noise making! Primus above... if you want to go outside, I suppose we can. Just, hang on a moment, okay?"

Heavy foot steps carried across the floor. The door slid back to reveal a glowering broad-shouldered Ironhide, and Sabre sitting on his aft with his hands raised to bang some more on the now-retracted door. The mechling squeaked with delight at seeing Bumblebee on the other side, scrambled to his feet, wobbled, than charged right at the Camaro, colliding with Bee's lower leg and wrapping his arms around it with joy.

"Bee!" Sabre squeaked, hugging and patting the yellow armored leg.

"Morning Sabby, I love you too..." Kneeling on the floor, Bumblebee hugged Sabre back gently – then froze. "Hang on – what did you say?!"

Sabre looked up earnestly at his friend, puffed himself up and said his first word again, straining to get it out right, "BEE!"

Ironhide's jaw hung down. Speechless. "Guh..."

"Bee!" Sabre bounced on the spot excitedly, then promptly forgot his new-found ability to speak and descended into rapid clicking and squeaking in his excitement.

Bumblebee reached down, carefully wrapped his hands around the tiny bot and lifted him up to optic height. "You can speak now! And you said my name! That's great!"

Sabre nodded his head furiously, his hands grasping and clenching at the air while he hung in Bumblebee's hands. His optic ridges furrowed, he concentrated, and out came Bumblebee's name once more. "Bee!"

"Little squirt," Ironhide chuckled, reaching down to rub a finger over Sabre's head. "You like your Bee, don't you?"

"BEE!"

"Yeah, we better go wake up Optimus and Elita; from _whatever_ they are doing," Ironhide smirked; he knew exactly what they were doing behind closed doors, "and tell' em the good news. C'mon Bumblebee. You can carry him."

Ironhide marched ahead while Bumblebee trotted along behind, cuddling Sabre and encouraging him to say his name again. He got it – and a fresh round of raspberries. Bumblebee was so impressed he started up a few of his own, where upon Ironhide stopped walking, flashed them a disgruntled look over his shoulder at the sounds of the raspberry duet – being greeted by a smiling, quiet, innocent-looking big bot and a little bot with both of his hands solemnly covering his mouth – then started walking again, muttering about 'insolent younglings'.

When Ironhide halted outside Prime's quarters, Sabre began wriggling ferociously in Bumblebee's grasp.

"Okay, okay! You can go down," the yellow mech put the struggling sparkling down onto his feet. Sabre darted forward and began banging his small fist on the door, clicking and squealing. He knew where he was. The door opened and Sabre threw himself forwards onto the leg of the first bot he saw.

"Hello Sabby!" Optimus peered smiling down at the bundle of metal attached firmly to his leg. "Did you have fun with Ironhide? We missed you last night." His legs bent and his hand reached down to stroke and rub at Sabre's head. Sabre squeaked and whistled up at him eagerly.

"Uh, no you didn't, well, not until we were _finished_, anyway," Elita muttered, walking past her sparkmate and reaching down to detach her offspring from her mate's leg. "Sabre! My little sweetie! Did you recharge okay with Ironhide?"

Ironhide snorted, folding his arms with a wry grin. "Yeah, he did. And he learnt something new, too." The black mech jerked a thumb at Bumblebee standing next to him, "Show'em, Bee."

Bumblebee stepped up to Elita, smiling down at Sabre. "What's my name, Sabby? Who am I?"

Sabre blinked his optic covers rapidly. He looked back and forth between his Mom and Bumblebee. Optimus leaned over both of them, curious. They had been repeating their names nightly to Sabre, saying them slowly and seeing if Sabre would begin talking, but without success. Just when everyone thought the little bot wasn't going to say anything, a shy small word came out.

"...Bee." Little optic covers blinked cautiously up at them.

Optimus thought his spark would go out. "_Primus..._ Sabby! You talk now!"

"It ain't a conversation, but yeah," Ironhide grinned. He knocked a beaming Bumblebee in the shoulder affectionately, "and lucky Bee was his first ever word."

Elita gasped. She hugged her mechling tighter, "Oh Sabre, sweetie, that's wonderful!"

"Say it again, Sabre. You can do it," Optimus urged, holding his hand out to his son.

Sabre grabbed it and rubbed his face into it, saying "Bee!" with a lot more confidence this time. He allowed Elita to pass him to his sire, Optimus holding the mechling close to his chest. "You're a smart bot, aren't you? Your first word! What a good bot."

Sabre squeaked and warbled, interrupting his own sparkling noises with random bursts of "Bee!".

Prime locked gazes with Elita, "Do you think we can try...?"

"Of course we can!" Elita rolled her optics, then looked down at Sabre in her bonded's arms, "Can you say 'Elita', Sabby? Try saying 'Lita'. Can you try?"

Sabre's face went all serious, he spluttered out an un-intelligible noise, then a rapid series of clicks. He stopped himself, looking hopefully up his Mom. Nope.

Elita patted him soothingly, "Never mind, my name consists of more syllables than Bee does." She looked up at a watching Optimus. "See if he can say 'Op', I don't think you'll get 'Optimus' first time though," she urged.

Turning Sabre around in his grasp, Optimus held him up in front of his face. "Say 'Op', Sabby. Just 'Op', go on, you can try." He smiled encouragingly at Sabre, waiting. The botling squeaked, putting one hand over his face and kicking his legs happily. He didn't have a clue how to say 'Op'.

"Bee!" he burst out with a giggle.

Optimus laughed, shaking his head, "Don't worry Sabby, we shouldn't expect too much in one day. 'Bee' is great, we like that." His optics looked over at Bumblebee. "It's great he said your name first, Bumblebee. I'm very pleased."

Bumblebee hesitated then nodded, relieved. Progenitors usually wanted their progeny to say their names first. Although he was proud that Sabre worked out how to say his name first, he had been worried about what Optimus would think about it. First Sabre walks to Jazz for his first steps, then he says 'Bee' for his first word.

Like everyone else, Elita One couldn't stop smiling, but she knew they had other business to attend to. "Ironhide, Bumblebee, could you look after him for another hour? We need to go and see Ratchet. Would you mind taking him?"

Optimus Prime winced at his mate's too informative words. _Elita, just outright tell them we've been trying to create a sparkling all night!_

Ironhide barked a laugh, covering his face with one hand and snorting with amusement. _So they have been busy. Over eager fraggers_.

Optimus glared at him then shook his head with a sigh, seemingly saying, 'Just wait until your own mate arrives, then we'll see who's making the smart comments!'.

Bumblebee nodded, "Sure! Give him here."

Elita transferred her precious bundle to Bumblebee's arms, giving Sabre a smooch on the top of his head as he went.

Bumblebee walked off with Sabre, Ironhide following along behind. Sabre was still letting off bursts of "Bee!" much to Bumblebee's delight, and Bee was playing with him by responding with "Sabre!" after he said "Bee!". Ironhide wondered if his audio's could be programmed to not pick up the annoying noises.

Optimus and Elita stood together, watching the group disappear down the corridor.

"Come on," Optimus took Elita's hand gently into his own, putting his other around her shoulders, "Let's go and see what Ratchet has to say."

"Mmm," Elita drew her optics away from where Sabre had disappeared off to and looked up at him, smirking. "I'm pretty sure we have a sparkling in here," she tapped her own chest, "considering how _hard_ you worked last night."

"Hard work, but well worth it," Prime gazed down at her with appraising optics. "Shall we go and give poor fritzing Ratchet a fit or two?"

Elita laughed, patting his hand on her shoulder, "Yes, lets."

**NEXT:** Does Elita have another sparkling? Or was all of the 'hard work' for nothing?


	18. Chapter 18

**Scent of the Future**

Authors Note: Many thanks in various ways to _**optimus prime 007**_ for her suggestions, and plotline help with this chapter. And to _**Plenoptic**_ for her never-ending enthusiasm for all things to do with Optimus and Elita. Not forgetting _**Litahatchee**_ too (I've used a small part of her sparkshock idea for Sabre) who has come through a horrible flaming review for her fic 'Nightfire' with her humor and dignity intact. This chapter will be a rough ride. Not all goes to plan for Op and Lita...

**Chapter 18**

**_Earth, Autobot Base medbay..._**

Ratchet went to throw a spanner; re-calculated his aim so it would ONLY hit Optimus Prime, and not the more vulnerable femme next to him; and threw it hard. It bounced off Prime's hastily turned shoulder.

Ratchet's faceplates were very angry looking. "FRAGGERS! Pit lovers!"

Optimus cringed, he should have thought of this! Of course the medic would be angry! He liked careful plans and consideration, not surprises! "No, no, Ratchet, stop!"

Another object flew at him, aimed at his head. It clanged off his hastily thrown up forearm. Prime growled, "STOP! That's an order!"

The angry CMO threw yet another object, not realising what his hand had grabbed until the thing impacted with Optimus' thigh. Oh. A chestplate separator. Nice one. "You could have warned me! Told me in advance! A little notice, you know, more than one microsecond to process such delicate information!"

"No, no, Ratch, wait-" Optimus tried to break him off from throwing a huge tantrum. He and Elita stood just inside the closed medbay doors. They hadn't gotten any further. Optimus has opened his mouthplates to began to say, "Morning Ratchet, I shouldn't be surprising you with this, I know, but we might need another proto-" when the medic had begun swearing.

"FRAGGERS, both of you!" Ratchet was not going to be denied. "You could have asked for some _expert_ help. You know the type, a bot who m-e-d-i-c-a-l-l-y" (Ratchet was going to have fun with this one, he didn't always get to go one-up on Optimus Prime, he was going to use this moment to its full potential) "knows more than you. But oooh no, go right ahead, poor old over-used Ratchet can whip up another protoform sparkling shell with no trouble at all."

The medic stopped his pacing back and forth behind his medbay table, and planted both hands on it, grinning like madbot. "Well, guess what."

"Er... what?" Elita asked hesitantly. She had one of her hands resting protectively on her sparkmate's hip. She'd heard of Ratchet's legendary rage. She was getting ready to shove Optimus in front of her as an obstacle while she made a run for it out the door. Femmes and soon-to-be-sparklings needed saving first!

"I think Wheeljack can make the next protoform. He knows how. Let him do it."

Elita's optics flared, "NO!"

Optimus began to tremble with distress, "PIT no! Primus, I don't want a sparkling made of blown-up bits of whatever, with a head that spins round, bits that fall off, or will explode at a moments notice... just, NO!". He loved Wheeljack, he really did, but Ratchet was much BETTER when it came to something so intimate and serious.

"Heh!" Ratchet waved an indulgent finger at them, "Gotcha with that one! I wouldn't do that. Hmm. I think..."

Optimus Prime sighed, one hand placed over his face, fingers massaging his forehead. "Please Ratchet, can you examine Elita? With all this yelling, we don't even know for sure if we have an orb in her chest or not."

"Rrrrr. Fine." Ratchet frowned, tapping one stiff finger on his med table, "Get up here, please."

Elita looked up at Optimus, suddenly very wary of what Ratchet would do. His optics glowed reassuringly down at her, comforting warmth filled her end of their sparklink. Pulling her pride around her, Elita straightened her shoulders and walked forwards, clambering up onto the bench. She lay down gingerly. Her mate moved to stand next to her. Just as Ratchet leaned over her to touch her chestplates, she grabbed at his hovering hand and halted it.

"You're going to be gentle, aren't you? I'm understandably very sore in the chest." Her optics glowed at him with the perfect mixture of politeness and threat.

Ratchet huffed, carefully disengaging his hand from her fingers, "Of course I will be. Just because I'm angry that you didn't see me first before, uh, _amusing_ yourselves with a sudden bout of sparkling creation-"

Optimus smiled at that. Ah, Ratchet, trying not to be too crude.

"-doesn't mean I'm going to take it out on you physically."

Elita frowned, jerking her hand at Optimus, "But you threw things at him!"

Ratchet shrugged, "I always throw things at him, and everyone else. They deserve it. Now, may I...?" He gestured at her chest.

"Hmm. Yes."

Elita tried to stay calm. Optimus snuck one hand underneath her faintly trembling one on the bench, lending her his strength. She flinched when her plates were retracted. There was a curious buzzing in her head...

"YES!"

"Yes?" Elita murmured at her mech's utterly delighted shriek, clutching at his hand as hard as it held hers. She felt rather strange. Like everything was far away, happening in the next room. Had this happened last time? She couldn't think. Too fuzzy.

"Yes, oh Primus, yes," Optimus voice began to crack, "We've got one, we did it 'Lita." His face came down to nuzzle lovingly at hers, "It's beautiful."

Ratchet was uncharacteristically quiet. Something wasn't right here. Yes, there was the sparkling orb, but the reproduction chamber didn't seem to be functioning properly. The slow energy transfer from Elita's spark to the encased sparkling underneath was fluctuating. Sharp arcs of spark energy were zipping back and forth from the femme to the orb. Concerned, he began to run multiple scans, ignoring Optimus.

"Beautiful... yes..." her voice drifted off, her head slumping to the side. Her optics flickered abruptly off. Her fingers went slack in his grip.

"Elita?!"

"MOVE!" Ratchet shoved Optimus out of the way, while yelling down his comlink for Wheeljack. He kept one of his hands inside Elita's chest, encasing the reproduction chamber in his palm, sending rhythmic but rapid energy pulses to the orb from an in-built magnetiser in his hand. Elita's spark pulses to her new sparkling had halted. The orb was beginning to dim. If help didn't come quickly... he didn't want to choose between saving Elita, or saving the orb. He couldn't just remove it from the chamber like this, as soon as he cracked open the casing it would extinguish immediately. Fade into nothingness and disperse back into Elita's systems. "Frag, frag, frag... WHEELJACK, HURRY UP!!"

Optimus was frozen. He stood with his arms out to his sides, not understanding. Elita was offline. Ratchet was screaming for Wheeljack. What?

"Here!" Wheeljack's mass burst in the medbay door at the same time as Sabre began screaming.

"Sabre?!" In the rec room, seated at a table, Bumblebee couldn't keep a hold of the struggling mechling. He was writhing like a mad thing. He arched hard enough to break free from Bee's shocked hands and began to fall.

Ironhide's reflexes caught him. He held Sabre in a grip exactly like his name, wincing at the piercing screams coming from the tiny bot.

"What gives?! I almost got demolished by Wheeljack in the..." Jazz's mouthplates swung open when he saw and heard the state Sabre was in. "...hallway. What the pit?!"

"Elita, or Optimus," Ironhide said harshly, straining to be heard over Sabre's repeated howls of anguish. He clamped the botling to his chest, over his spark, trying to calm him down, "Sabre, shoosh, we're here, it's okay." His optics matched up with those of Bumblebee's. The Camaro was stunned. "Find 'em. Don't sit there, FIND THEM!"

Bumblebee scrambled to obey. Jazz took off on his heels, calling Prowl over his comlink, trying to get information. Were they under attack?! What was wrong with Op and Lita??

Sabre continued to scream. Ironhide kept trying to reassure him. This wasn't a joke. For the sparkling to be so upset, something was awfully wrong with his progenitors. Something bad.

"Infusion line, NOW!" Ratchet demanded, keeping his attention on the orb. He couldn't let go. It would go out. "Get me some mediator, get it in, 'Jack. Full bore."

No sooner had he growled it, than the engineer-mech-now-substitute-med-assistant was inserting a line into Elita's neck port and pumping silver fluid down it, squeezing the solvent bag to force feed the liquid in faster than its usual dripping rate.

Elita's body jerked on the table. Optimus wanted to scream. His hands were reaching for his sparkmate, wanting to touch, wanting to help. The steady presence he usually felt of her inside his spark was fading. Dropping off. "No... NO!"

Wheeljack shot his Commander a look, then sent a summons down his comlink to Ironhide. They'd have a raging Optimus to deal with in another microsecond. He would need restraining, or there'd be major mech damage.

In the rec room, Ironhide muttered, "I can't.. I can't..." hunching over a bawling Sabre, rocking back and forth. Pleading with Primus.

While Ratchet struggled with keeping the orb going, Wheeljack went to work on Elita's wavering spark. He bathed his hands in the silver fluid he'd just delivered down Elita's fuel line, and encased her spark in it, allowing it to drip and run. The spark fed on it, brightening. The fluid contained every vital liquid component used by Cybertronian systems, in a concentrated form. It would artificially bolster up Elita's systems, sending her spark into a surging state, giving him and Ratch some time to figure out what the pit was going on. It would burn out some of her fuel regulators, but that was a minor side effect.

The immense form of Optimus hovered over Wheeljack's shoulder. Waves of electrical fury and anguish came from him, causing Wheeljack's own spark to quiver. Prime was intent on protecting his sparkmate and sparkling. His frenzied CPU couldn't distinguish from a medical emergency hurting his femme and an enemy attack causing it. All of his systems were now set to protect, defend, attack.

_Oh no..._ Wheeljack braced himself, wincing. A bonded mech feeling the pain of his mate, and that of his un-sparked sparkling, was a crazy one. He didn't know what he was doing. This was going to hurt.

"Optimus!" A large blue and white form slid an arm around Prime's wide chest and slammed him backwards just as he lunged to attack Wheeljack from behind.

Prime screeched in fury, struggling to get free from the heavier weight pinning him to the wall. Arms flailing. Optics blazing.

A newly Earth-mode scanned and armored-up Ultra Magnus thrust his face into that of his friend, noseplates-to-noseplates, keeping his voice steady, "Let them work, don't interfere, they're trying to help."

"NO!" Optimus roared. "Elita!"

Having trouble keeping Optimus contained, and getting tired of dodging wild punches, Magnus elected to wrestle the panicking mech to the floor, were they engaged in a grotesque writhing wrestling match of pure power until Ultra Magnus got him locked into a chest hold he couldn't get loose from. Optimus would surge ineffectually upwards, howling, then be slammed back down. Magnus closed his optic covers briefly. He didn't want to have to hurt Optimus this way.

"Check her analyser, Jack," Ratchet instructed, then spared a moment to satisfy himself that Magnus had Optimus under control. He didn't need a manic mech loose in his medbay during a crisis. Magnus met his optics and nodded faintly. He could keep him down.

With sure hands, Wheeljack popped open a small hatch in Elita's lower abdomen, working carefully around Ratchet's hands inside her close by. He grunted. "Nothing showing up here. She's clean. No contaminants."

"Damn it," the medic's face was tight. "We need to see underneath her. Structural check. Lift her slowly." The orb was obstructing his scanners. He couldn't see a small portion of the rear of her spark casing, or the tiny connectors leading from it to the reproduction chamber. That had to be it.

Nodding to show he was ready, Ratchet braced his hands around the orb while Wheeljack slowly lifted Elita so she was tilted up onto one hip and swept one of his own scanners along her back. Her head flopped lifelessly. They had to be careful. A sudden jerky movement and the orb would vanish, despite Ratchet's artificial regulation.

"Got it! Spark connector blockage!" Wheeljack almost crowed in delight. Now they had something to work on!

Grabbing a tray of tools from behind him, the mech pried off the armor plating covering the femme's back, exposing her lines and structure to his probing. He clamped off each end of the connector, slit it open, flushed out the line so it was clean, sealed it back up again, then un-clamped it slowly - watching to see what would happen.

Ratchet winced at a surge of spark energy that flowed over his hands. Ouch. But it was a good ouch. The orb was re-buffing his assistance, rebounding his own pulses back at him. Gingerly, he removed his hands. The orb glowed up at him. With normal radiance. He quickly checked Elita's spark as Wheeljack lay the femme flat again. That was reaching normal parameters too. Oh, thank Primus...

Still cradled in Ironhide's terrified arms, Sabre abruptly stopped shrieking. He sniffled, then raised his head to look around like he was waking up, bracing his small hands on Ironhide's thick chest.

Ironhide gingerly looked down at him, hope rising in his spark. "You okay, little one? What's happening?"

Sabre blinked, looking happy. Then his faceplates froze.

"Oh no," Ironhide groaned, a microsecond before Sabre retched and brought up his morning energon all over the black mech's chest. A reaction to his stress.

"I knew that was going to happen one day..." Ironhide sighed, with resignation.

Sabre started to cry, but it was normal crying, not freaked out screaming. The warrior mech kept stroking his back, making soothing noises and valiantly ignoring the disgusting mess decorating his chest armor. If Sabre was now reacting normally again, that meant whatever was happening to Optimus and Elita was over. And they weren't dead. Or else Sabre would be offline in sparkshock right now, instead of just crying.

Sabre gagged again, trying to expel more energon from his upset holding tank.

"Woah! No, no, wait-" Ironhide lifted the sparkling up and spun him around so he ejected the last of his energon all over the floor instead of him. "Whoops. Poor sparkling. _Poor_ sparkling. That's never a fun experience."

"Exactly _whose_ sparkling are you mucking around with, Ironhide?"

Ironhide froze. Sabre dangled in his hands, crying again. Holy Primus, it couldn't be... it _COULDN'T_ be!! His head slowly turned to look to his right. His optics began to fritz at the same time as his spark began fluttering in his chest. Oh crap. What an incriminating situation to be caught in.

A protoform Chromia – still glowing from her atmospheric entry - bent down and went optic-to-optic with her long lost sparkmate, hands on hips, "You better have some pretty good explanations ready for me, slagger! Or else!"

The Twins; Sunstreaker and Sideswipe; who had supervised Chromia's un-orthodox landing and led her to the base; snickered and grinned behind the fuming warrior femme. Oh... this was gonna be a good one!


	19. Chapter 19

**Scent of the Future**

Authors Note: Thanks heaps for all the reviews! I was startled to find my email inbox bombarded with feedback at breakfast time. Everyone really loves Ironhide and Chromia. I will respond to my reviews shortly, I've just been busy, sorry for the delay. My bad.

**Chapter 19**

Chromia's double-barrelled laser rifle began to charge loudly; a whining noise followed by a quiet thunk as the power cells kicked in and activated the firing chamber. The femme growled. Hostile. WHERE had that sparkling come from?! And why was Ironhide playing with it? He was acting like it was his!

The noise of the charging rifle was peculiar to his sparkmate's weapon, a noise that Ironhide hadn't heard for an awfully long time. The femme was still an un-armored, basic protoform, but she was packing. And he'd modified her rifle for her so it was much more powerful than the standard issue Autobot rifle. Maybe that hadn't been a great thing to do... since she often pointed it at him. Should've put a remote kill switch on it.

_Slag, better defuse this right now! She wouldn't shoot me with a sparkling around – would she?_

"Uh... um..." Ironhide glanced quickly back and forth between Sabre – who had stopped crying and was staring with interest at Chromia – and his newly arrived sparkmate, Autobot Femme Warrior; Chromia. He knew what was going through his femme's CPU. He stood up and hefted Sabre so the sparkling was dangled right in front of her face, "This is NOT mine. He's Prime's."

Sabre giggled and kicked his legs in the air as Chromia's expression changed from outraged I'm-going-to-rip-your-limbs-off to total confusion. She powered down her weapon and attached it to her outer thigh support with experienced sightless fingers.

"Ironhide; what? Say that again?" Chromia blinked at him. "He's... Optimus'? How..?"

Ironhide tucked Sabre into the crook of one arm, grabbed at Chromia's shoulder with his other hand, and spun her around easily, "Femme, can we talk on the way?" he rumbled in her audio, hustling her along. Jazz had just commed him to hit the medbay, fast. "Elita and Optimus are with Ratchet. It's an emergency."

The big black mech halted suddenly. Chromia almost toppled forward onto her face, jamming one hand onto his hip to stop herself. Her spark sang at the physical contact of her metal to his. Ironhide stared down at her like he was waking up and finding a gift-wrapped present at the end of his recharge berth, "Oh." Leaning over, he nuzzled her affectionately, smiling roughly, "It's great to see you again."

Chromia was too bamboozled to respond all that well. She looked at him owlishly, "You too. You..." her voice died down as she stared at Sabre who was poking at her curiously, "..too?"

"Move it, fraggers," Ironhide demanded as he brushed his way past the gawking Sideswipe and Sunstreaker.

"Moving," Sideswipe said cheerily. They had another femmebot now! Sweet.

"I am NOT a fragger. Does this perfect paintjob scream 'fragger' to you? Does it?" Sunstreaker complained, trailing his twin.

Sabre raspberried him over Ironhide's shoulder.

_**Ratchet's medbay...**_

Under the intense lights of his examination table, Ratchet glanced up from leaning over Elita's abdomen, his optics latching onto the sight of Ultra Magnus and Jazz sitting one end each on top of a lying down Optimus Prime on the floor.

Quirking an optic, Ratchet grunted, "You can let him go now. He should be safe."

Ultra Magnus stood up immediately, freeing his Commander. He looked with concern at Elita. The femme was quiet and still. Off-line.

Jazz continued to sit, perched like a plucky bird. He'd entered the medbay just after the crisis, throwing himself with gusto into the job of restraining the massive freaked-out, Optimus Prime. "You sure, Ratch? Cause he might still be hostile, and it's only the menacing power of me and Magnus keeping him – WOAH!"

The small silver mech was tipped off and onto the floor without apology as Optimus Prime gained his feet with amazing dexterity for someone so large. He only had optics and audios for the prone female on the medtable. Ratchet watched him approach with assessing optics. The CMO furrowed his optic ridges. Being in such close proximity to his mate when she was in dire straits, the mech would have felt everything that was happening to Elita.

"Are you okay?" Ratchet asked, keeping his tone warm and friendly. He knew he must look threatening, leaning over Elita's body, his thick chartreuse armor glowing harshly under the overhead lights, cruel looking tools in his hands.

Prime's gaze seemed confused. He looked up from studying Elita but he didn't respond. His optics returned to watching his partner.

"As long as you don't hit me..." Ratchet murmured lightly, reaching behind himself for another instrument to continue his work of ensuring Elita's spark; and her sparkling; remained stable. Optimus was obviously suffering from CPU shock. Backlash from the turmoil his spark had been through.

"Is she alright, Ratchet? And the sparkling? Is that okay?"

Ultra Magnus was peering anxiously over Prime's shoulder. He had positioned himself to make another emergency grab at his Commander if he was needed. His bulk was even more immense than Prime's, and his height topped Optimus by half a head. They had the same colors – red and blue.

Ratchet glanced at him, "Out of danger. I would like to remove the orb before anything else happens, though."

"That's my job!" Wheeljack sang merrily from the other end of the medlab, where he was busy working over a sparkling protoform shell.

"Orb? What orb?" Magnus asked, meshing his forehead plates.

"Don't know much about reproduction, do you Magnus?" Ratchet snickered lightly. The tension and horror of trying to keep Elita and the sparkling alive was beginning to drain out of him.

Ultra Magnus crossed his arms, looking defiant, not liking the challenge to his mechhood, "I know enough, thank you."

Ratchet rolled his optics and pointed one finger delicately at the open hole in Elita's abdomen, "_This_, is an orb. It's what we call a sparkling which is yet to be removed from its female progenitor, and housed within a protoform body."

Optimus followed the movement of Ratchet's finger. He reached out with his own hand towards the reproduction chamber containing the spark of his new sparkling. The one he'd created with Elita.

"No, no, don't touch," Ratchet brushed his hand away, "no sticking fingers in, okay?"

Prime grunted, taking his hand back. "E-E-Elit... Elita?" His voice was unsteady and nervous.

"She's fine. We're all here for her, don't you worry," Ratchet said, while studying his way around Elita's inner workings.

"Ratchet!" The medbay doors swung open, allowing the entry of Ironhide, with Sabre clinging to his chest armor, all frightened optics and terror. The sparkling didn't like medbay. Only bad things happened here.

Ironhide and company had passed Prowl and Bumblebee standing in the hallway outside the medbay. Bumblebee was distraught, seated against the wall while Prowl was patting his shoulder, murmuring comforting words. The Twins stopped to help cheer up Bee while Ironhide, Chromia, and Sabre went inside. Prowl's head swivelled to watch Chromia – one of Elita's femmes! Were there any more?

"Be quiet, Ironhide, everything is under..." Ratchet hissed, giving him a glare. Then he saw Chromia; her small, but intense, blue optics peering out from behind the dark mass of her mate. "Oh. Another one. Hello Chromia."

Chromia's reply was un-heard over Sabre's sudden frenzied squeaking and crying. He was bracing himself against Ironhide and leaning outwards, reaching frantically for his mother. "Bee! Bee!" His sobbing got louder, "LITA!"

The noise made Optimus look up, his frame standing up tall to look behind him. His CPU kicked into gear at the cries of his sparkling. His systems dropped from battle mode and lurched into normality. "...Sabre?"

"Sabre, Sabby, it's okay, you can't go to Elita just yet, she's being helped by the doctor, alright?" Ironhide cuddled him, trying to soothe the mechling. "Optimus?" His optics flicked up and down the huge mech. He didn't look violent now.

"I'll take him," Jazz held his hands out hopefully to accept Sabre.

But Optimus walked unsteadily over to where Ironhide had halted. He looked down at Sabre. The sparkling sniffled. Little hands rubbed his optics.

...then Optimus came fully back to himself. "Oh Sabre..." his voice was sad, "Come here little one."

The sparkling was taken into his hands, encompassed by thick arms, and held lovingly to the center of his broad chest. Optimus stroked his small hunched back with a shaking hand, "You must have felt all that," he murmured, dipping his head to brush his mouthplates over Sabre's head. "If it was bad for me... I'm sorry, we'll make it better. I promise."

Sabre kept whimpering. He curled up into his Sire's chest, optics looking around with fear. He couldn't take many more shocks today. He'd had enough.

The Autobot Leader slowly made his way back over to where Elita was. Holding Sabre tightly. The pair of them watching and waiting.

Chromia stared. Optimus Prime with a... sparkling? She would never have been able to imagine the scene she was looking at now. And how could such a huge mech handle something so small? She shot a look up at Ironhide. He caught it, giving her a haughty grin. See? Not mine! She jumped when she felt a hand sneak around her shoulders. His arm rested along them. Her spark was tingling in her chest, and she reached up a hand to rest it on his where it dangled. Loved.

"Welcome to Earth, Chromia."

"Huh?" The femme looked up at the quiet greeting. And up. Very tall mech. There weren't many mech's apart from Optimus that could tower over her own Ironhide. "Hello Magnus. Thanks."

Jazz twittered, whispering, "Ask him what an 'orb' is, Chromia."

"Jazz, shut it. Or I'll weld it." Magnus murmured back, flexing his chest cables with a Commanderish-type glare.

He looked at Optimus standing next to the med table, Sabre held to his chest while the sparkling gawked down at his silent Mom and whimpered sadly. Magnus turned around, hustling the other Autobots out with large guiding hands, "C'mon, out, I think Optimus and Sabre need some alone time with Elita. We can wait outside."

"No, wait! What's wrong with Elita? Ratchet!" Chromia ducked behind Ironhide when Ultra Magnus tried to shoosh her out of the room. "Tell me!"

Ironhide also resisted being moved. He stared at Elita's silent rose painted body on the table. "Ratch? She'll be okay?"

"Yeah. She'll be fine."

"Okay." With a nod, the Weapons Specialist left, allowing himself to be pushed along so he was following the others out the door. Ratchet heard Ironhide's voice dimming as the doors closed, "Fragger, you touch me with that hand one more time..."

"Hands off my mech, Magnus."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Ratchet smiled faintly. The old crew was getting back together. His gaze passed over Elita's reproduction chamber. Plus one. "Hey 'Jack, how's that protoform coming?"

"Good! Good. It's easy, actually, all you have to do is set the dimensions, arrange the wiring, get the new chamber ready, run the-"

"Thanks Wheeljack. You can shut up now."

Optimus Prime's head wheeled around at Wheeljack's voice. "Wheeljack is... is..."

"He's good, Optimus. He won't get it wrong."

Sabre struggled to reach a hand out towards his Mom, hanging off Optimus' frame like a monkey. Optimus allowed him to brush a gentle touch along her arm. He seemed happy with that.

"Will she be okay?" Prime's optics looked worriedly across at Ratchet. "Really? And what was the cause of all this? Will she come back online soon?" His face was tight, thinking this was all his fault. "I asked her for another sparkling. It was my fault, she wouldn't be like this if-"

Ratchet slammed a hand down on the med berth angrily, "This was _not_ your fault, and if you keep up with trying to blame yourself, I'll hit you so hard you'll be occupying the berth next to her, waiting for repairs!" The medic fumed righteously. Damn slagger was always looking for ways to hold himself responsible for everything. He wasn't going to get away with it this time!

Wheeljack paused in his work, staring at the stand-off between Ratchet and Optimus. Sabre shrank back against his sire, fearful, making peeping looks at the angry doctor from behind his arm.

Prime lowered his gaze, too tired to fight, "If you say so."

"I do!" Continuing to glower, Ratchet carefully closed up Elita's open chestplates. "As for your other question, Elita will be back with us shortly. While she is now out of danger and functioning near normal limits again, she must stay here until I can remove the sparkling. It would be dangerous for her to wander around unsupervised at the moment. She is at significant risk of another spark obstruction occurring."

Optimus' optics closed briefly, "...Thanks."

Ratchet grunted, and went to help Wheeljack with the sparkling body. Optimus stayed standing next to the quiet body of his sparkmate, watching her anxiously. Sabre was uncharacteristically quiet as well - no squirming, no clicking, no raspberries, no demanding to be put down.

Big mech and little mech waited together.

Tired blue optics looked down at the mechling, "...Did you say 'Lita', Sabre?"

"Lita!"

_**Outside the medbay...**_

Chromia stopped as the doors closed behind her, looking back uncomfortably at the medbay. "Ironhide, what's wrong with Elita?" She tilted her chin up, hands on hips. Waiting.

"I second that." Prowl stood up from where he was sitting with Bumblebee. "How is she?"

"Our lovely Femme Commander will be perfectly fine," Jazz broke in, fairly bouncing back and forth on his feet, grinning like a mad thing. "Especially once she's sparked her new sparkling!"

"ANOTHER one?" Prowl squeaked.

Jazz gave him the thumbs up, and a devious grin.

Ultra Magnus sighed, shaking his head at the smaller mech. Jazz was becoming obsessed with sparklings! Someone had to break it to him gently that without an available femme, he couldn't have one.

"Does that make two now? I never thought Elita was so fond of sparklings!" Chromia spluttered. "But why is she sick? You don't get sick having a young one!"

"A spark blockage of some kind. Wheeljack fixed it. He says she'll be okay." Magnus informed her solemnly.

"Wow. Sparklings all over the place, this is insane. Wonderful, but insane," Chromia placed her hands on her forehead, blinking. "How old is Sabre?"

"Stop chattering, femme, and come with me," Ironhide slid a determined thick arm around the waist of his bonded – and received a harsh thump in his groin plate from a quick femme fist. He bent over in shock, and pain.

"OWW!"

"Don't you ever think of anything else?" Chromia admonished him, her blue optics flashing. "I'm worried about Elita One and you want to drag me off to the nearest room with a door for you-know-what. Mechs!"

"Uh... no?" Ironhide muttered, squeezing his knees together with a sour expression. Ow, she hit hard! Eons apart and she smacks him for wanting some 'alone' time? His expression changed to something like pride. No one could tell his female what to do, not even him! Tough chick.

Prowl had moved himself to stand in front of Bumblebee when the youngling started to become TOO interested in staring at Chromia. He didn't want their Bee corrupted by whatever Ironhide-The-Slut was trying to get Chromia to do. Bumblebee was having none of that. He kept moving from side to side and sticking his head out for a better view. Noticing what Prowl's agenda was, Ultra Magnus joined him in standing in front of Bumblebee.

The Camaro sighed, and slumped back down onto his seat. Defeated. Then he grinned. Sabre would have a new little buddy to play with! Elita was sparking again!

Ironhide could see this conversation on sparklings going on for a long time to come. Without giving his femme warning, he bent over, popped her across his shoulder before she could stop him, and began to walk off.

The other mech's gaped at him.

Chromia began screeching and belting anything of him she could reach on his armored back with her hands. "PUT ME DOWN!"

"No."

"NOW!"

"Nope."

"OR ELSE!"

Ironhide stopped walking, looking sideways up at her petite aft with a disgruntled expression. "Or else _what_?" he rumbled. "And if you really wanted to get down, you could, I couldn't keep you contained, which means you want this as much as I do, so stop with the shrieking and carry on, female." He held up a hand in 'goodbye' to the other mech's, stomping off. "Later, guys."

Ultra Magnus frowned with concern, "Does Chromia require assistance?"

"No, Chromia makes her own assistance. She needs no help," said Prowl, not amused.

"Awww, come on Prowly, you've always wanted to do that to me," Jazz purred, nudging his berth mate and leaning against him, looking up with fluttering optics. "I'm small enough to fit on that gorgeous broad shoulder of yours, too."

Prowl looked around anywhere that didn't mean looking into Jazz's simpering optics. "Um, I think, um, we should, er." He sighed, giving in. "Nevermind."

Bumblebee giggled. Prowl was not the type to act intimate or 'needy' in public. The day Jazz ended up over Prowl's studly shoulder would be if the base was on fire and Jazz had lost his legs.

**NEXT: The new sparkling arrives... or does it? **


	20. Chapter 20

**Scent of the Future**

Authors Note: Once again, I have to thank a few people for some of the ideas in this fic. For more specifics, see Chapter Six where Sabre was sparked - **Lady Tecuma**, **Litahatchee** (who I still have to review the latest chapters of her brilliant fic 'Night Fire', I'll get to it mate!) and **Karategal** (who still pops out amazing chapters of her incredible Baby Bumblebee stories). Thanks also to **Plenoptic **(taking time off for her studies, go girl!) and last of all, to **optimus prime 007, **amazing authoress (Kaceystars Mom) and brilliant co-conspirator for this fic and others. Ta mate!

**Chapter 20**

Ratchet watched over the still recharging forms of Optimus Prime and Sabre, sitting and lying next to the berth of Elita One.

Optimus was sitting in a hastily provided chair with his arms propped on the med berth Elita was lying upon. Head sunk down to rest on his wrists in a light recharge. He had refused to leave the medbay to get some recharge in his quarters; opting instead to recharge in a chair. He'd even resisted THAT while Ratchet stood quietly in front of him, arms crossed over his bulky chest with that knowing medic look of 'I'm right, you're wrong', watching as Prime's optics flickered, his systems ran imminent recharge warnings, and he couldn't keep his head aloft.

His impotent rage earlier had completely stripped his systems of energy, he was helpless against the rising tide of demand from his CPU for _rest_. Ratchet nodded with satisfaction when he sunk quickly into a recharge cycle and went quiet.

Sabre had fitted himself into the small cuddly space provided by Prime's arms and chest leaning on the table, and was napping away contentedly. He was too young to really understand how serious his Mom's condition was, he was just happy to sleep curled up against his Sire, his Mom close by, and his spark free from the pain it had felt when Elita went close to visiting Spark Heaven.

Wheeljack had performed a magnificent job of constructing the protoform sparkling body. Once Ratchet had corrected some of the wiring sequences which had been backwards (Wheeljack was enthusiastic and brilliant, but not always into the tiny details) he declared the body fit for housing Elita's new sparkling. The CMO also made some modifications to make it more suitable for the gender of the sparkling about to be sparked. He had held the sparkling orb in his hands and kept it alive for long enough to 'sense' with his spark what was inside. The little one in his cupped, life-giving hands, had been very scared... with a streak of stubbornness wide enough to cover the distance from Cybertron to Earth.

"There, all done," Ratchet said quietly, closing the ports and hatches to the miniscule body, and running a finger lightly over the seams and protoform metal.

He placed a silver cloth sheet over the spark-less body, covering it up. It wouldn't do for Sabre to wake-up, see the tiny body, and start fritzing with excitement. The mechling wouldn't understand that there wasn't a spark inside of it yet.

"Ugh, tired," Wheeljack sank his head into his propped up hands, running his fingers over his head. One optic cocked itself to look up at the CMO, his hips joints creaking as he shifted his weight from one worn out leg to another, "You did a good job, Ratch."

"Me?" Ratchet snorted, "You're the one that unblocked the line. You saved her. I just played with the orb."

Wheeljack's optics glinted, "You still running that whole modesty routine after all these years?"

"Shut up. Would you like to see my new wrenches?"

_**Ironhide's quarters...**_

"So they've had a sparkling already. His name is Sabre. The one that was ejecting all over the floor while you held him."

"Yes."

"And now there's _another_ one coming? What are they up to? Has anyone thought of separating them? By _force_? Are they staying in their quarters all day with each other or what?"

Sitting on the edge of his recharge berth, Ironhide scratched at the back of his head absently, smiling faintly, "Yeah. Can't stop those two. Looks like Prime's going for the 'Most-Sparklings-Sired-By-A-Mech' award."

Chromia growled, poking at his armor, "Don't be crude."

"Oh, and what we just did wasn't crude?" Ironhide smirked, leering. They'd been all over each other. Hands everywhere. Sparks singing. His systems were still winding down after their... intimacy.

"Look, I'll lay off the punching and cursing for one day only," Chromia warned him, holding up a finger for emphasis, "then it's total anarchy; rifle in the crotch with finger on the trigger, chestplate latches soldered shut, and Ratchet can off-line your reproduction and interface programs for the next year."

"Oh." Ironhide's impossibly wide shoulders slumped. Defeated. "You're setting rules already? But... Chromia..."

She nodded, looking at him expectantly with crossed arms and shrewd optics. "Our quarters are fine, I'm all for that," she grinned manically, looking at his body the way he was staring at hers; with open lust; "but in public, in front of the others, we need to maintain _some_ sort of decorum... and I presume some bots would prefer to use the targeting range without us, er, on it."

She loved spark-merging and interfacing as much as the next femme, but Ironhide had no self-control, he'd be after her constantly in private AND in public, and she needed to set ground rules. He needed - she flash searched the humans World Wide Web – a leash. She herself wasn't immune to groping her partner in public, but she wouldn't go as far as Ironhide wanted to with the optics of other mech's looking on. Shifting herself over on the berth so she was sitting closer to him, she leaned against his body, purring audibly.

"...but I think we have time for one more merge before we should go and check on Elita and Optimus, hmm?" Coy optics blinked up at him. "Wheeljack says Lita is still offline, but she's fine..." Her mouthplates nipped at his jaw, tracing its outline tenderly. Her face shined up at him with expectation.

He looked down at her in absolute glee. His spark jumped in his chest. Primus, he loved his femme.

_**Ratchet's medbay...**_

Elita One came online slowly, the ceiling of the medbay filling her vision. Her head hurt. Her chest hurt. Her _everything_ hurt. She let loose a soft groan of complaint.

Lying in twilight recharge against his Sire's chest, Sabre popped his head up over Optimus' arm, optics searching hopefully. He squealed.

"Lita!"

The sparkling mech scrambled over Optimus' arm and headed straight for her chest for a loving hug –

"Oh no you don't!" Ratchet snatched the mechling up in mid-air before he landed in a heap on his mother's very sore chestplates. Sabre screeched in outrage at missing his target. "Sorry Sabre, but you can't jump on Elita right now, you'd hurt her."

"Wha...?" Optimus surged out of his recharge program, looking around. "Elita?"

"Lita!" Sabre wriggled and strained against Ratchet, beginning to growl. Legs kicking wildly.

Holding the clicking and growling sparkling out of range of Elita, Ratchet looked down with concern at his female patient, "How are you feeling, Elita? You went through a rough patch there for a while."

"Aches... everything aches. Badly." Her voice was soft and weak. "Sabby, stop, don't hurt... Ratchet." Her optics looked up wearily at the worried doctor. "Is my sparkling..?"

"Safe." Ratchet nodded reassuringly over the top of Sabre's struggling form. "Completely unharmed and happy in your chest."

Sabre was squealing and banging his angry fists onto Ratchet's chestplates. Unhappy sparkling. He didn't understand why the evil doctor was keeping him away from his Mom.

"Elita..." An oversized mech hand touched her jaw softly. Large familiar optics in a handsome mech face descended from above and looked down at her full of love and concern. "Are you okay? Do you know what happened?"

"No." Elita shuttered her optics, allowing her face to snuggle into his palm. Her body began to relax. She sighed. Her voice was small. "I don't know if I want to."

"Sabre! Uh, oww! No! Good Primus, what a handful. Wheeljack!" Ratchet held Sabre out and away from his body. The mechling was really getting angry now, and was biting and clawing at any body part of the doctor he could get near. He latched his jaw onto Ratchet's hand on his chest and bit down hard, stressing out his small mouthplates. Why wouldn't the nasty mech let him go?!

"Here, I'll take him," Wheeljack slid his not-so-delicate hands underneath Ratchet's own and managed to un-tangle the tantrum throwing sparkling from gnawing away at the medic's precious hands. Sabre found the Engineer's hands a lot tougher to bite. They were thick.

Optimus was leaning over Elita, his head close to hers, murmuring comforting words. Celebrating in their quiet personal way, of the news that Elita was carrying.

"Sabre," Elita choked out, pressing her face into his shoulder.

"Wheeljack has him, he's okay. He was trying to jump on you." Optimus lifted his optics to Wheeljack, "Can you bring Sabby here, 'Jack?"

"Yes – OWW – Sir. Sabre!" Wheeljack trotted over, holding out the growling sparkling. "All yours."

"Thank you."

Sabre went easily into Prime's hands, clicking and whistling at his Mom eagerly. Optimus held him up in front of his face, looking serious. "Sabre, Elita is sore, she hurts; here," Prime patted his own chest for emphasis, "you must not sit or jump on her. Can you understand me?"

Sabre squeaked, then nodded, patting his own chest. He understood.

"Okay then. Be careful."

Lying on her back, Elita angled her head and looked at her mechling with soft happy optics as Optimus settled him down carefully against her side, close to her face. Sitting on his aft, Sabre hesitated for a moment, all wide optics and tucked up hands. Then his face lit up. His arms opened out wide.

"LITA!"

"Sabby!" Elita touched her faintly trembling hand to his chest tenderly, grinning like a mad thing despite her weakness. "I've got a name now. Aren't I lucky?"

Looking upwards at his Sire for confirmation while he touched Elita's hand – Optimus nodded that was okay – Sabre hugged her hand to his chest. His body rocked back and forth, and he warbled happily, trilling.

"Cute." Ratchet said, and crossed his arms. Watching on. Standing next to him, Wheeljack coughed, smiling behind his mask.

"Good mech, Sabre. Good mech." Prime's hand stroked the sparklings back slowly.

Letting Sabre keep ownership of her hand, Elita turned her head to look at Ratchet, "What happened?"

The CMO's optics caught on to his Commanders. Optimus lowered his.

"Ratchet." Elita frowned. "TELL ME."

"You had a small problem, Elita, and went offline. Will you let me tell you after we spark your new sparkling? Wheeljack has the shell ready." Ratchet pointed a finger at the opposite table, showing a lump under a silver blanket. "I believe it would be best to do this sooner, rather than later."

"Now?" Elita exchanged looks with her mate and Ratchet. Sabre was patting her hand and clicking. "Can Sabre stay for this?"

"If Optimus can control him."

The Leader grasped a large hand around Sabre's waist, "I will."

Wheeljack touched Ratchet's shoulder, murmuring, "I'll be right outside the doors." He turned to leave.

"Wheeljack, you can stay," Elita said softly, watching him.

The broad stout mech halted, turning, "Nah, you guys need privacy, and besides, the others outside need some news. Would you allow me to spread the word?"

The femme smiled, nodding. "Sure 'Jack."

Optimus inclined his head at him, "Thank you Wheeljack. We'll call you in when the transfer is complete."

"That'd be great!" Wheeljack almost bounced off in a very Jazz-like way, exiting the medbay. "Hope everything goes alright!"

Sabre was talking to Elita's hand affectionately; clicking, saying 'LITA!', squealing, patting it.

"Alright you little grease spot, time to take a step back." Optimus hefted Sabre up into his arms, sitting him in one arm. "And you need to stay very quiet, okay? No sounds. Hands over mouthplates." He slid one hand under the femme's small one. Holding it tightly. "Elita? Are you ready?"

"As long as you're here I am. Let's do it."

Ratchet nodded at them, unfolding his arms and flexing his Sabre-chomped fingers. "Okay. Give me a moment."

While the medic went off to clean the metal of his hands and torso, and arrange his instruments, Optimus' optics focused on the tiny body lying on the next table. A formless lump under a sheet. It hadn't been so long ago that a shell like that had been waiting for Sabre. Within moments they'd have another life. One he and Elita had created. A new Autobot.

Ratchet reappeared. "Sabre, I won't be hurting Elita, okay? This doesn't hurt. This is all very normal."

The mechling blinked at him. Unsure.

"Optimus, if he starts to scream..."

"I'll take him outside," Optimus said, "or better still... Sabre, can you turn your optics off for me? Just for a little bit?"

Ratchet frowned, "That might make him more worried."

"No, he'll be good. Go on Sabre, optics off, and hands over them, just to be sure. There will be a surprise waiting for you when you turn them back on. Promise."

While Optimus got Sabre set-up, Elita One tried to relax, momentarily lowering her covers over her optics. It was hard. Yet again she'd have the medic opening her chest and running his hands over her reproduction chamber. That weird feeling of being invaded. She knew it didn't hurt, but it wasn't something she looked forward to. She vaguely thought about asking for a sedative.

A hand came down to rub her shoulder gently. She opened her optics. Ratchet was standing next to her. His hand was covering her shoulder. He had an oddly understanding expression on his face.

"You'll be fine. Just like last time. I'll take it slow and easy, yes?" His words were soft. "And I have done this before, quiet recently, if my CPU reminds me correctly."

"Uh... y-yeah." Her voice didn't sound like her own.

Another hand touched her opposite shoulder. She turned her head. Optimus. With Sabre sitting in the bend of his other arm, little sparkling hands dutifully covering his optics. She smothered a laugh. Happiness filled her chest, easing her fears. With so much support and a new sparkling to look forward to, her fear and nervousness began to melt away.

Elita firmed up her voice. "Go for it, Ratchet."

"Starting now."

Elita stared at the ceiling beyond the bright lights. Keeping her nerve. Her sparkmate's hand stayed on the highest point of her shoulder. Ratchet opened her chestplates. She heard the blind Sabre make a small squeak of inquiry, Optimus murmuring 'not yet' to him. A light touch to her chamber. Some pressure. Air circulating over the sphere as it was opened with a cautious vibrating scalpel. Ratchet seemed to pause.

"Comfortable, Elita?"

"Yes. Go on."

More movement. A small tug. Bright light.

...then she abruptly felt empty.

Optimus Prime was floored by the colorful orb emerging from Elita's chest cupped within Ratchet's hands. A translucent containment field snapped up around the orb before it completely left Elita's cavity, ready for its short journey to the new body. The medic paused, showing the orb to the lucky progenitors.

"_Primus..."_

"It's pink..."

Ratchet smirked, knowing something they didn't, "There's a reason why it's pink, Prime."

Both parents watched with awe. Ratchet carefully turned around, cradling the orb. He'd removed the blanket from the protoform shell once Sabre had switched off his optics, and the chest of the tiny form was open and waiting.

Elita restrained herself this time. When Sabre had been sparked she'd been trying to throw herself off the table and chase after Ratchet carrying the orb. Now she had more patience. Barely. Her hands hung onto the table. Keeping her anchored. Must wait... must wait...

Just as Ratchet settled the orb into the new body, Optimus tapped Sabre on the head with one finger, unable to remove his gaze from the orb. "Open."

Sabre flashed his optics on and yanked his hands down. He squeaked. His Mom had her chestplates open. That was the big surprise?

"Sabre, look over here." Optimus turned his body, directing his son to look at the protoform. Ratchet had closed the miniature chestplates (yelping at the sharp shock he'd received when he'd removed his hands from the orb – he always expected it, but that didn't make it hurt less) and the limbs were jerking. Fists opened and closed. One foot kicked.

Sabre's mouthplates hung open, making a small 'o' in his face. What was _that_?!

Nodding to himself, satisfied at the results of his quick scan, the medic rushed back over to Elita, sealing up her chamber, checking her sparklines (thankfully finding them all to be perfectly clear and stable) and closing her plates.

Unlike before, Elita wasn't quite fit enough to be sitting up and stumbling over to her new offspring.

"Optimus? Would you do the honors?" Ratchet gestured at the awakening sparkling. "I'll take Sabre."

Wordless, feeling like his chest was going to burst and his CPU explode, Optimus handed over Sabre with numb hands, and took two stiff steps to the bench. To his new sparkling. The protoform looked strangely feminine... was this a...

"Femme!" Optimus spun his huge form around in a flash of blurred red and blue, locking optics with Elita. "A female!"

Elita dropped a hand over her mouthplates in shock. "Femme. A little _femme_." She put a shaking hand out to prop it on Ratchet's thigh, "Ratch, we've got a femme!"

"I know that, who do you think told Wheeljack to adjust the protoform's appearance?" Ratchet smirked, bouncing Sabre in his arm slightly. "Congratulations."

"Oh Optimus, hurry, I want to see her, quick," Elita beckoned her sparkmate.

It took Optimus Prime a little longer to work out what was the best way to pick up the new sparkling. He studied every possibility. Optics roving. Her size was smaller than Sabre. More delicate. The optics were off but the legs and arms were twitching.

"OPTIMUS!"

Deciding on a plan of attack, the big mech slid two careful hands under the body. It was warm. He paused as all movement stopped. Hands and feet tucked themselves up instinctively. Ready to go. With holy reverence, the sparkling femme was lifted up and held against his deep chest. The body fitted somewhat comfortably in one of his hands, as long as his other hand cupped the other side, giving stability.

He turned around carefully. Walked with upmost care. Straight to Elita. He presented the tiny sparkling to his sparkmate. And Sabre. Standing like he was holding Primus himself.

"Here, this might help," Ratchet prodded the underneath of Elita's table with one experienced foot, getting the bench to lift up, and the headrest to rise, allowing Elita to sit near-upright with support. "Better?"

Neither Elita or Optimus could speak. Sabre did it for them.

"Bee! LITA! Lita, Lita! Bee, Bee!" Sabre clapped his hands. He'd finally figured out what the thing was. It was another him! Someone his size to play with! He strained to get out of Ratchet's grip.

Ratchet held him firmly, "Oh no you don't, hang on there kid, let Elita and Optimus have some time first."

Sabre watched as Elita held her arms out. Optimus slowly and carefully bent over. He was terrified of dropping the tiny life. He let Elita grip the sparkling with both hands, arms underneath, before he let go.

"So tiny..." Elita held her daughter. Optics studying every inch. She looked up with the biggest smile ever. "Perfect. She's perfect. She's beautiful!"

Optimus nodded, stricken, "Yes, she is. The most perfect life in the universe."

The sparkling shivered, curling up further, pushing against her mother's chestplates. With a few false starts, the optics of the protoform flickered on. Small blue orbs looked up into Elita's face. The Femme Commander felt her spark seize in her chest. She was being studied.

"Hello... hello little one." Elita pressed her mouthplates to her daughter's forehead.

Small hands grabbed at her head. A tentative first smile broke out on her face just as Optimus leaned in for a closer look. He got a smile too. Then her sudden burst of energy began to wane. Her optics dulled and went dark. She tucked up her limbs again. Recharging.

Ratchet let the warm silence continue on for a microsecond more, then had to ask his question. He had to know. "Name?"

Sabre squeaked, throwing his hands in the air like he'd scored a touchdown, "BEE!"

Elita laughed, despite the soreness of her chest, "No, no, Sabby. Not Bee. We've already got one of those." She looked up at her sparkmate, optics glowing with love, "I'll let Optimus say it. He picked this one by himself. I rather liked it."

Stretching out his shoulders and straightening up to his full height for such an important announcement, the Autobot Commander pronounced solemnly but tenderly, "Safire. Sabre's sister."

**NEXT:** Meet Safire, the newest femme on the base! Will Jazz faint?


	21. Chapter 21

**Scent of the Future**

Authors Note: Thank you to all the usual peoples, you know who you are (**optimus prime 007, Litahatchee, Plenoptic**), and I must give a big recommendation to a fic called 'From The Ashes' by **MelancholyRose611**. It is a great fanfic, nicely written, with a you-beaut storyline (which I will not spoil by giving away a big plot point) involving Sam and Mikaela. There are a great many excellent fics around right now, but this one really doesn't get as much love as it deserves, that's why I'm plugging it. Go and check it out if you'd like something nice to read! It will tug at the heartstrings though, be warned!

**Chapter 21**

_**Outside the Autobot Base medbay...**_

Jazz was a short bot; a very masculine, deadly, shiny, and attractive bot; but short. Still, he didn't let his size get in the way of hassling Wheeljack for information. He was up on his toes, hands on his hips, getting right into the engineers broad face, noseplates almost touching; Wheeljack's widespread plates making Jazz's perky smaller nose structure seem very sparkling-like. His visor was dropped menacingly low over his glowing optics.

"Whhheeelllljaaacck..." Jazz drawled playfully.

"Nope. Not sayin'. It's a sparkling and it's on the way. I'm not giving away if it's a mech or femme," Wheeljack protested, and tried not to back up away from Jazz's determined optic-to-optic stare. "I'm not saying _anything_!"

The engineer shifted uneasily on his feet while Jazz huffed noisily. Wheeljack had his back firmly planted up against the double medbay doors, keeping the interested 'crowd' at bay while Ratchet helped Elita with her sparking. He knew the Femme Commander had a little femme orb waiting inside her. Ratchet had been discrete with his 'make the protoform body a bit rounder and petite' request, but it was obvious.

"Jazz, please, just wait," Prowl put his hand gently on his berthmate's shoulder, tugging softly. "Come and stand with me."

Standing off to one side of the group, arms crossed over his chest, Ultra Magnus watched the interaction curiously. Jazz-wrestling was going to be much easier than Optimus-wrestling, if Jazz went over-the-top with annoying Wheeljack. He watched Prowl try to get Jazz to back down. His and Jazz's relationship had always seemed a mis-match to him. The quiet, logical, war-driven Prowl, with the hyper, cheeky and smart Jazz? And didn't Jazz still have a thing for femmes? He'd once had half the femme population of Cybertron swooning all over his feet. His charm was legendary. And obviously, he wanted a sparkling!

It took a bit more tugging but Prowl got Jazz to fall back from interrogating poor Wheeljack. The taller warrior glanced down at his partner worriedly. Jazz was really obsessed with sparklings. He was no longer behaving like himself, and while Prowl had cracked a few rare and very dry jokes about his over eager partner, it was now becoming a burden on his CPU. Prowl reasoned logically there must be a particular reason for Jazz to be so infatuated with sparklings.

...perhaps his own brush with death had made him fanatical with the idea of new life?

Chromia snuggled up to Ironhide's chest, rubbing her noseplates on his armor. "I never would have thought that one of the first things I'd be doing on this new planet would be waiting for Elita to spark a young one!"

"Yeah. Strange things happen." Ironhide dropped his hands to her small waist, holding her against him possessively, his optics never ceasing to sweep over her lithe but strong form over and over again. She felt so good right where she was.

Sunstreaker managed to look bored with all the hoo-ha, bracing his shoulder against the hallway wall and sighing. "How long does it take to make one of these things?"

"Not _make_, Sunny," Sideswipe shook his head, nudging his Twin, "produce. To spark." He looked up at the massive form of Ultra Magnus next to him. "How long does it take, Magnus?"

"Uh... not long." Magnus said as authoratively as he could manage, and slid his gaze off to the side, dropping his arms down to link his hands behind his back. How would he know? He really had to get his hands on some reproduction data, this was getting embarrassing.

Bumblebee stared at Sunstreaker, blinking. The yellow Lamborghini was one of the most voracious femme-lovers on Cybertron, and even HE didn't know what happened with sparklings? Maybe he shouldn't idolise the all-knowing-about-femmes warrior so much. He just hoped everything went the way it was supposed to (even if none of them seemed to know what that was) and that Elita and Sabre were okay. And Optimus.

Wheeljack jerked and yelped when the medbay doors unlocked and slid back abruptly, just missing taking off a piece of his bulky aft...

...to reveal the doorway shadowed by a large, smiling, and glowing-with-happiness Optimus Prime, with a tiny protoform sparkling settled back in his arms.

The group of Autobots broke into gasps, smiles and wondrous optics at the sight.

"_Primus._.." Chromia covered her mouthplates with her hands, optics wide. Ironhide slid an arm around her shoulders, a stupid grin his only answer.

"Prowl; Prowl, look!" Jazz bounced on his feet. Happiness threatening to split his faceplate into shards.

"I'm looking," Prowl had a smile all his own. "Congratulations Optimus. How is Elita?"

Optimus stepped towards the group, and inclined his head at Prowl, carrying his daughter with great care, "She is well, but tired, thank you. Recharging. She will need to stay in medbay for a while longer." His optics looked back down at the little form in his arms with pride, "I wanted to introduce you to our new Autobot."

Ratchet came up silently behind Optimus, wearing an indulgent smile of his own. The others appeared so awestruck and eager. Like sparklings themselves.

"Wow! So cute! Femme or mech? What's the name!" Jazz trilled. He had crept closer, and was looking at the quiet sparkling in his Commander's arms excitedly. Prowl sighed and looked heavenwards. He and Jazz needed to talk... although their last talk hadn't gotten Prowl any closer to understanding Jazz's sudden desire for a sparkling.

"_Her_ name, Jazz?" Optimus grinned.

"Femme! I knew it!" Jazz squeaked.

The huge red and blue flamed mech looked around at his loyal family of soldiers (and femme) with immense pride. "Her name is Safire, and yes Jazz, she is a femme. She is recharging at the moment. Please try not to disturb her."

A grinning Sideswipe offered Optimus the thumbs up, "Good going, Optimus, one of each! A femme AND a mech!"

Even Sunstreaker cracked a happy smirk on his handsome faceplates, "Yeah, I second that."

"Congratulations Optimus. She is... cute." Ultra Magnus said, and stepped closer. His optics studied the tiny protoform. The immense muscle cables and hydraulics of Prime's arms and chest really made the sparkling look small and vulnerable. Magnus looked up at his friend, "Safire is a wonderful name."

Optimus nodded and looked down at his little femling. Overwhelmed.

Safire was indeed cute. Sabre was going to have a fight on his hands in the cuteness stakes. She was still quietly recharging away, her hands and feet gracefully tucked up, unaware of the curious onlookers studying her closely. No doubt she would be the absolute charmer of the base when she woke up and began working things out.

Bumblebee approached Optimus quietly, not wanting to disturb anyone, his optics curious but glowing with happiness. The big Leader mech turned slightly to face the Camaro. He dropped his arms down fractionally lower to allow Bee to get a good look. The yellow bot blinked closely at the recharging sparkling.

"What do you think, Bumblebee? Do you like her?" Optimus asked softly.

Bumblebee's head tilted to the side, thinking. His optics moved from roving over Safire to look up at Optimus. "She's beautiful. When the humans see something wonderful, they call it 'love at first sight'." His voice was interlaced with faint static due to his emotions. "I understand what they mean. Safire fits the concept, I love her already."

Optimus felt relief flood his chest. Bumblebee's acceptance was very important to him. "Thank you, Bumblebee. I'm sure she will love you as much as Sabre does."

Ironhide and Chromia joined the throng looking at Safire. The black mech quirked an optic ridge, "Be careful with the 'fire' part of her name, Optimus. Femmes have enough of that to cause trouble with. If she chooses red for her color scheme, we'll be in for even more trouble."

"_Ironhide_!" Chromia hissed, elbowing him in the belly armor.

"See? See?!" Ironhide gasped, patting his abdomen to make sure his armor was intact. "She's a problem and she doesn't even like red!"

"Please ignore the lugnut, Optimus. He doesn't know what on Cybertron he's articulating about," Chromia murmured to her Leader, standing on her tiptoes while her optics blinked appreciatively at Safire. "She is beautiful. Elita must be very happy."

"She is," Optimus nodded, "very. And I had better be getting back to her. Thank you, everyone, for your congratulations, I will convey them to Elita." His regal head lifted to look at his Lieutenants, "Prowl? Magnus? I trust you two can handle the base by yourselves for a while? I will be staying by Elita's side until she is fit to be released by Ratchet."

Magnus inclined his head, "Of course, Sir."

"Yes, Sir," Prowl nodded.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe looked at each other with horror and apprehension. While Optimus usually allowed them some leeway on their pranks and misbehaviour, Prowl and Ultra Magnus were not so lenient. And if those two had the Command...

As if on cue, Sunstreaker's optics met up with Magnus'. The much bigger mech smirked faintly at the yellow warrior and narrowed his optics - _I'm watching you_. Sunstreaker tried to look away as casually as he possible. Slag. Maybe he and Sides had better keep to themselves for a bit.

Ratchet stepped to the side to allow Optimus and his precious bundle to pass by him. He closed the medbay doors on the group with a small wave.

Jazz sighed, "Wow. Those two are so lucky."

"I agree." Ironhide was looking at the closed medbay doors with scrutinising optics. Chromia stood looking up at him. "Very lucky. Safire's arrival came at a cost though." His optics turned to lock onto Wheeljack, who had been standing in the background. "Jack, I think it's time you told us what happened in there earlier."

Wheeljack cringed as all the Autobots turned to look at him expectantly. "Me?"

_**Inside the medbay...**_

Ratchet hesitated just inside the medbay doors, watching Optimus approach his recharging mate. Sabre was sitting very quietly on his aft at Elita's side, next to her hip, while the tired femme was recharging on the medberth. His hands were clasped seriously in front of him, watching over his tired Mom while the big mech's were outside with Safire. He wasn't fidgeting. Or looking bored. Or trying to entertain himself in some way. He stayed alert and attentive to his Mom while she was offline.

Ratchet's optics softened at how self-important Sabre appeared, taking his duty as 'protector' right into his little spark. The little mech was already prepared to take responsibility onto his shoulders – so much like his Sire...

"Everything okay, Sabby?" Optimus enquired softly, coming up behind Sabre with the most soundless steps his big feet could manage. Elita didn't stir.

Sabre clicked at a low level. He nodded. His optics looked up at his sister in Optimus' arms. He was obviously curious.

"Do you want to meet her?"

Sabre nodded again, a lot more vigorously this time. Yes please!

"Ratchet, would you mind..."

The medic was already on the same wavelength, "Of course. Just a sec." Ratchet cleared an adjacent bench of his tools, making room for Sabre to sit, and lifted the mechling over to it. "There you go."

Sabre watched as Optimus carefully lowered himself into a seat so the recharging Safire was at the same level as her brother. The mechling's optics widened considerably. He leaned in to peer closer. Scanning her. What was this little thing that looked like him? He squeaked up at Optimus. The big mech seemed to know what his question was.

"This is Safire, your sister." Prime shifted his arm so the femling was at a more open angle for Sabre to see. "She has just been sparked, so don't expect her to be ready to play or talk just yet. Do you like her?"

Sabre's head bounced vigorously.

The Autobot Leader chuckled quietly. "I thought you might. Everyone else is so big, it will be nice to have a bot more your size, yes? But you have to be careful with her. Be gentle and kind."

Sabre slapped his hands over his mouth with wide optics blinking over the top of them.

Ratchet laughed, swiftly muffling himself with one hand, whispering to Optimus, "I think that means no raspberries! That's what he thinks of as behaving."

"It's a start," Optimus nodded happily. "Ratch, do you think he understands about the difference between femme's and mech's? I mean, that HE is a mech, and Safire isn't?"

Ratchet snorted, leaning against the bench with one hip, "If he doesn't I'm sure he will soon enough. If he's anything like you, he'll be chasing them as soon as he matures to the interface enabling stage, which will probably happen early, going on your past history."

Optimus rolled his optics, shaking his head. "As the humans so eloquently put it, TMI, Ratchet."

"What?" Ratchet held his hands out, "if he looks like you, and acts like you, he'll have femmes falling at his feet."

Optimus looked uncomfortable, shifting his shoulders, "Life is not all about interfacing, medic."

"Try telling that to Ironhide, he'll faint. And so says the mech who has TWO; let me repeat that; TWO, sparklings. You do know how they appear, don't you?" Ratchet said with obvious glee. "You don't get them by humping a fire hydrant. Ironhide's tried that."

"Shut. Up." Prime glared at him, but it was only half-strength. He couldn't muster up a full blown Optimus comeback when he was still overcome by the joy in his spark at holding his brand new daughter.

Sabre completely ignored the bickering mech's. His small hands flexed while he inspected Safire from head to toe. Fingers reached out tentatively to touch the baby sparkling, and his optics blinked up at his Sire, waiting for permission.

Ratchet saw the gesture, "He can touch her, Optimus. I don't think she'll wake just yet."

Optimus nodded, "Touch her softly, Sabby. Just a very small touch."

One small finger reached out, wavering. It seemed to take ages to make contact with the gleaming grey metal of Safire's shoulder, and when it did, Sabre snatched it back and squeaked in wonder.

His Sire chuckled, "See, she's real. She's just like you."

Sabre's head went back and forth between Optimus and Ratchet. Then he gasped, and just about threw himself over the edge of the table he was sitting on.

"Woah! Hang on there, where are you going?!" Ratchet's reflex's caught him mid-chuck, and settled him down safely onto the floor, where upon Sabre took off at an unsteady run to the medbay exit on short legs.

Concerned, Optimus rose up from his chair, "Sabre, what are you doing?"

Sabre knocked his fist on the door, looking up at them pleadingly. He had to go! He had to go NOW!

Prime caught up with him and kneeled awkwardly, "Are you scared of something?"

Sabre shook his head, and tapped on the door again. Open up!

"I think he wants to go somewhere..." Ratchet said uncertainly. "You can't go out by yourself."

Optimus blinked his optic covers slowly, "The others might still be out there, maybe one of them can take him where he wants to go, but, I don't understand..."

Ratchet shrugged, "One thing about sparklings, they often don't make sense. Can Bumblebee look after him, perhaps?" With that, Ratchet opened the doors, and Sabre sprinted out into the hallway.

Sure enough, the other Autobots were still there, talking. They all looked up as the doors opened. Sabre saw who he wanted, and ran full tilt at Ironhide, ramming into his thick leg.

"What? Oww!" Ironhide held his arms out, staring at Sabre. "What's going on? What did I get hit for?!"

Sabre squeaked and clicked, then turned around, and began vigorously pushing on Ironhide's leg, trying to force him to get walking.

"What on Cybertron are you trying to do, Sabby?" Optimus, asked, completely bewildered by his mechlings actions.

Sabre didn't answer, he just kept on pushing, leaning in and straining mightily, but he couldn't budge Ironhide an inch. Bumblebee stared at Sabre. What was he doing?!

"Uh... I think he wants you to... _go_ somewhere, Hide," Chromia said, looking down at the tiny thing trying to shove her sparkmate's huge mass by sheer determination. Physics were definitely not on Sabre's side. "The little bots waste room, maybe?"

Some of the other's snickered and laughed as Sabre backed up a step, then charged forwards into Ironhide's lower leg with a thunk, hoping brute force would work.

"Okay, OKAY, I get it, Primus above..." Ironhide held his hands out in surrender, "you want me to go somewhere. I'll start walking and you steer, alright? If that's okay with Optimus..."

Prime arched one optic ridge, "Fine with me. I haven't a clue what he's up to though."

"I'll help," Ultra Magnus volunteered, placing a hand on Ironhide's back and effortlessly getting an unprepared Ironhide to stumble forwards a few steps.

While Ironhide snarled and tried to threaten retaliation against the bigger mech (and Chromia laughed herself stupid), Sabre shrieked with glee, and kept Ironhide going with the hardest shoves and slaps he could manage.

"ALRIGHT! We're going, we're going!" Ironhide jogged ahead to stop Sabre slapping him. "I'll get you back later, slagger!" He called over his shoulder to Ultra Magnus.

Magnus shrugged, unconcerned. Ironhide was good, but not as good as him... there wasn't anything the black mech could threaten him with that would make him worry. He'd get his aft handed to him in front of his femme.

"I'll wait here, sweetie!" Chromia called after her abducted mate, still laughing. She hadn't thought ANYONE could shove her mech around except her – well, now she'd found someone; a sparkling named Sabre!

While the others started discussing Sabre's weird behaviour, a confused Optimus and a confounded Ratchet retreated inside the medbay.

Sabre and Ironhide weren't gone for long. Ironhide's thick footsteps signalled his return only a few Earth minutes later. Sabre had marched the black mech all the way to his quarters and made him open the door while he retrieved something, handed the 'item' to Ironhide to carry, and started pushing the mech all the way back to the medbay, squealing and raspberrying him to hurry up.

Bumblebee squinted at the bundle in Ironhide's hands, "Is that a...?"

"I think it is," Wheeljack nodded.

Magnus stared at Ironhide with a smirk, "I do believe that is Sabre's toy."

Sunstreaker broke down and sagged against the wall while a just-as-incoherent-with-laughter Sideswipe tried to hold him up.

"Fraggers, shut it." Ironhide glared at all of them, holding the teddy bear none-too-gently in one stiff hand.

Chromia could only force her mouthplates closed for so long before she lost it. "Ironhide... phhhttt! Why, WHY, are you carrying a stuffed fake organic?"

"Ask Sabre," Ironhide growled, glowering.

Sabre banged on the medbay doors and Ratchet opened them quickly enough. The mechling held his hands out to Ironhide, who obligingly dropped the bear (that was almost as big as Sabre himself), into the mechlings eager hands. The botling then marched inside the medbay with the teddy stuffed under one arm. Ratchet blinked, shook his head, and closed the doors again.

Bumblebee raised an optic ridge at Ironhide, "All of that because he wanted his _teddy_?"

"Yeah, will you go get mine too, Ironhidey?" Sideswipe sniggered.

The red Lamborghini managed to avoid the punch that came his way from the disgruntled black mech, but Chromia's follow-thru on behalf of her mate's ego scored a hit.

_**Inside the medbay...**_

Still holding Safire – he was loathe to put her down – Optimus looked down at Sabre. "He wanted his teddy bear?"

Ratchet and Optimus watched in surprise at Sabre's antics. He chucked the teddy up onto the table he had been sitting on earlier, then clambered up onto it himself. He huffed and picked up the teddy, looking up at Optimus with hopeful optics.

...then shyly held out the teddy like an offering.

"What?" Ratchet's optic ridges furrowed.

"I think... I think he wants Safire to have it," Optimus murmured, feeling his spark swell with love and pride. "It's his bear, but he wants to give it away to her."

Sabre nodded shyly and clicked. He kept the teddy held out. Wanting Optimus to take it.

Prime walked over slowly and once again lowered himself into his chair. Sabre crept forwards. Still shy. Optimus shuffled Safire gently into one arm and accepted the teddy graciously with the other. He bowed his head at his son.

"Sabre, you are wonderful brother to want to give away your only teddy. On behalf of Safire, I say thank you." Prime's fingers clasped the teddy softly. He looked down at his little femling, "I do believe you just received your first present, Safire."

Prime jerked in surprise when his daughters optics began to flicker. Her tiny feet moved restlessly. Her head rotated back and forth in small movements, her arms began to unfold from being tucked up to her chest... and her optics turned on.

"Primus..." Optimus felt like his spark would break. "Ratchet."

"I see her," the CMO peered over Optimus' shoulder. "Hello little one."

Round little optics blinked up at Optimus Prime. A small smile graced her mouthplates.

"She likes smiling.." Optimus whispered. He kept her held against his chest, up close to the warmth of his spark, but managed to lift her more upright. He followed what she was looking at with his optics. The teddy.

"Do you want this?" he murmured, "Your brother gave this to you."

"...Optimus...?"

All of the mech's (big and small) turned their heads at Elita's soft call.

"Elita..." Optimus placed the teddy on the bench and rose from his chair while Ratchet scooped up Sabre. "Safire just woke up." His armor creaked when he used his strength to turn around slowly on firm feet so as not to upset Safire.

"I know," Elita's voice was soft. Not weak, but not her normal tone, "I felt her. She was.. reaching out to me. Prodding me, with her spark." Her optics shone up at her sparkmate, "May I have her?"

"Of course," Optimus smiled.

He waited while Ratchet once again levered up the head of the medberth so Elita was sitting up, then transferred Safire over to her mother. The femling's optics shifted from staring at Optimus to lock onto Elita's face. Her smile never faltered. Optimus moved around to stand behind Elita so he could watch too. His hands rested without weight on Elita's shoulders as he bent over closer, looking over her shoulder.

"She is beautiful, is she not?" he asked.

"Yes." Elita lowered her head to touch noseplates with her daughter. Safire closed her optics at the touch and clicked. Her small hand patted Elita's cheek. "How sweet! Thank you, Safire." The Femme Commander looked up at her mate, "Thank you, Optimus."

"Thank you?" Optimus appeared taken back, confused, "What did I do?"

Elita laughed, getting a bigger smile out of Safire, "You sparked half of her! Without you, we wouldn't have any Safire at all! Silly!"

"Oh. In that case," Prime brushed his mouthplates over Elita's cheek, "I must also thank you too. You were the other half to mine. And..." his optics dimmed, "I almost lost you."

Ratchet felt like he was intruding. He took a step back to give them space, but Sabre squeaked in dismay, "Lita!", he wanted to get closer, not further away. "Oh! Sorry Sabre." The medic shuffled forwards again.

Elita's head lifted, "Sabby? Have you met Safire?" Her son's optics blinked brightly at her from within the bright shine of Ratchet's armor under the lights.

"Lita! Lita!" Sabre clicked and whistled, bouncing in Ratchet's hold. He was close enough to the bench he had just been picked up from that he was able to stretch out and grab his forgotten teddy. He lifted it up with a grunt of effort and held it out again. "Lita!"

Optimus smiled at him, "Sabre gave his teddy up for Safire. He marched Ironhide all the way back to his quarters where he left it, just to get it for her. We didn't have a clue what he was doing," The Commander smiled wryly, "I don't think Hide was all that impressed about being a teddy bear courier."

Elita laughed, her voice becoming stronger. Safire clicked up at her curiously. "Optimus, she's clicking! Safire, you have a very kind brother," she cooed down at her daughter. "Bring him over here, Ratchet please."

The medic obeyed and took Sabre right up close. The mechling promptly held out his teddy again. Elita took it, thanking Sabre.

Safire looked up curiously at the huge brown thing hovering over her head. There was something dangling from it... a small hand reached up and grasped the teddy bears leg. Elita slowly lowered the bear down so it lay beside Safire against her chest. Not wanting to scare her. Safire blinked at it, then gave a little sigh and rested her forehead against it with a click. She liked it. It was soft. Tiny hands grasped the fur and hung on.

Everyone except Safire looked up at a muffled choking sound.

It was Ratchet. Embarrassed, he was covering his optics with one hand. "One word and I set Ironhide on your afts," he spoke in a barely audible choked tone, keeping his face covered.

"Well, that's enough blackmail to cover one millennia, at least," Optimus grinned.

**Author again:** Few! That was one loooong chapter! I might give this one a break for a few weeks, and go work on 'Birds and Bumblebees'. Hope no one minds too much...


	22. Chapter 22

**Scent of the Future**

Authors Note: I must give a HUGE thank you to _**optimus prime 007**_ for helping me with this chapter. While this is mostly fluff, it was so hard to organise and write! I begged for ideas and direction from _**optimus**_, and she came through for me, over flowing with great inspiration.

Gentle readers, if you don't like soppy love and new baby type stuff, please skip this chapter. Not a lot happens here, except for the end bit if you are a Ratchet fan. This episode had to be done as Safire's introduction to Sabre and other new 'baby stuff', hence the over abundance of fluff. And thank you for all the reviews! People seem to like this story!

**Chapter 22**

Optimus Prime walked slowly and sedately down the hallway towards his private quarters. Elita One; his sparkmate; was walking closely beside him, and both Autobots had their optics firmly fixed upon their new offspring – a little femme they had named Safire. She was cradled in the left arm of her Sire, arms and legs tucked in as she lay on her back, happily looking around (seeing mostly the ceiling and her Sire's chest, but since she was so new, even that was interesting) in no rush to do anything just yet.

"She's very calm," Optimus complimented his daughter, his blue optics in constant motion within the frame of his face as he studied her in detail. "She's taking after you."

"Mmmm, I would've thought calmness and serenity were more your department than mine." Elita smiled up at him.

One of her hands was holding onto the small hand of her son, Sabre. The mechling was twittering and skipping along, holding the teddy bear he had given to Safire under his other arm, excited to finally have his new sister coming home with them from medbay. Ratchet and Ironhide had prudently cleared the hallways of errant Autobots who may have decided to hold the family up while they cooed over Safire. Jazz had tried to tag along as 'necessary back-up'; or so he put it; until Prowl confined him to their quarters.

Ratchet had kept Elita in medbay for as long as he could (which came down to three Earth days) before she put her foot down and demanded to be released from captivity, or else the CMO would find a rifle thrust in his face. And used.

Optimus only had two thoughts about the whole drama. One, it would be wonderful to finally recharge in his own quarters instead of being stuck on a makeshift berth next to Elita in the medbay, since he had refused to leave her alone; and two, while he was as worried (more like terrified) for Elita's well-being as Ratchet was, he knew Elita would get no rest if she was being forced to stay somewhere she didn't want to be.

...home was a much better idea for everyone.

"Lita!" Sabre had let go of Elita's hand and run ahead to bang one fist on the door of his quarters. "Lita?"

"We should give him his own code to open the door," Elita said, coming up behind the botling and rubbing him on the head tenderly. She tapped in her code and the door slid open.

Sabre squealed and tumbled inside, warbling and clicking. The couple followed him in.

"You want him opening and closing the door while we're having... _private_ time?" Optimus said, giving her a 'come hither' glance.

Elita waved him off, "Oh, be quiet, it's not like we'll have ANY private time since we've now got TWO sparklings to deal with, thanks to your eagerness for little things that make rude sounds and eject energon." She cocked an optic ridge at him, smiling at his grinning face. "I should have asked Ratchet to turn off some specific programs you love to keep running... ones involving reproduction."

Prime didn't care what jibes she wanted to poke at him with. Safire was enough to fix anything. His happiness knew no bounds. He looked down at a shy tap upon his lower leg. Sabre was standing there, staring up at him. "Did you want to welcome Safire home, Sabby?"

A flurry of clicks and a nodding head told him yes.

Elita eased herself down to sit on the edge of their recharge berth, Optimus doing likewise at her side.

"Come here, grease spot," Elita patted her lap, and Sabre handed her the teddy to hold before eagerly climbing up onto it. She hugged him, then sat him down to face Optimus. She looked over her mate's thick arm to view Safire, "How's she doing? You're having all the fun, I'd like to hold her too, you know."

"You're doing fine, aren't you?" Prime sweet talked down at an optic blinking Safire, "Do you want to stay with me? I bet you do, and you can, I make the orders, everyone does what I say."

"Got a big head, hasn't he? Everyone only does what he says or else they'll get treated to smelly exhaust fumes," Elita said, smirking down at Sabre.

Sabre agreed, nodding enthusiastically.

"Traitor," Optimus extended one large hand and poked Sabre in the belly, getting him to shriek with laughter.

Safire's optics opened wide at the sound. A hesitant click came from her. She could feel the warm glow of two big sparks, and one much smaller one, but in no way less bright. She was surrounded by them. There was also one other spark... but that one was further away...

Elita looked down at her, bright optics staring. Safire saw her face and smiled happily. Then a smaller face appeared. She blinked. Who was that? The smaller spark?

"Sabre, say hello," Elita urged.

Sabre let loose a happy raspberry.

Elita put her hand to her face tiredly, "Oh Primus."

Optimus rolled his optics with a chuckle, "I suppose that's close enough."

"Yes, well, he is a mech, they never are all that _polite_," Elita looked sideways at a grinning Sabre, then looked up under her optic ridges at Optimus, "considering the first thing you said to me when we first met."

Prime sighed, placing one hand over his optics with a shake of his regal head, "Femme, you're never going to let that go, are you?"

"Me? No. Never. It's good ammunition." Elita waved one eager hand at her sparkmate, "Now come on, hand over Safire, it's my turn now."

Cautiously – Optimus would never completely get over his fear of hurting a sparkling, especially his sparkling – a very awake and clicking Safire was passed over to her Mom. Elita's face lit up with a joyous grin as she settled the little femling onto her lap, allowing her to sit up on her own aft (with helping supporting hands).

"Did you want to look around, Safire? There are lots of things to see..." Elita encouraged. Then she frowned. "That's if Optimus and Sabre can _get their faces out_ _of_ _your way_!"

Two curious and absolutely smitten mechs (one little, one big) where staring right into Safire's small face and blocking her line of sight. Optimus smiled and sat back, murmuring an apology, while Sabre clicked eagerly and scrambled up onto the recharge berth to sit on Elita's other side.

Safire's optics blinked and focused as she looked around, miniature face seemingly in awe, although there wasn't that much to see. Optimus had never been one to decorate his quarters, and while Elita wasn't much better, she just simply hadn't had the time to do anything about it either. Sabre had finally graduated to having a separate recharge berth of his own instead of a box, and Safire was now taking ownership of his old box. Ironhide and Wheeljack were making plans to enlarge Prime's quarters to accommodate the family, with one small room each of their own for Sabre and Safire.

...although Ironhide had openly commented that since the new parents had two sparklings to occupy their time now, perhaps they would be able to keep their hands off each others chassis?

"You know what, I think it's refuelling time," Elita said warmly, leaning down to brush her mouthplates over the back of Safire's head. The tiny femme clasped her hands together and twisted her head around to look up. Yes please!

"No thank you, I don't need any just yet..." Optimus said absently, his optics and CPU totally locked on Safire.

"Optimus! Not you, her!" Elita laughed.

Prime looked self-conscious, "Oh. Yes, okay, that sounds good."

Elita groaned slightly as she stood up and handed Safire over to her sparkmate, "Here, you hold her, I'll fix the ration up, and guess what? You can feed her, I spent all my time in medbay doing it, now it's your turn."

"Uh..." Optimus looked uncertain, holding Safire gingerly. "But I haven't done that yet."

"Exactly. Time to learn." Elita told him firmly.

Safire watched Elita with eager optics. She knew exactly what was coming. It had been a while since her tank was filled.

"Okay, all ready. Here, this is how she likes to be held." Elita sat Safire on her aft against the inside of Prime's left arm, getting her comfortable, then handed the small enclosed cup to Optimus to hold in his right hand. The receptacle appeared very small in his over-sized fingers. "Now give it to her as slowly as you can, she likes to take it down fast. Ratchet and I had a hard time to get her to slow down."

Following instructions, Optimus presented the cup to Safire, holding it up to her mouthplates. Safire squeaked and grabbed at it enthusiastically, spilling some out of the small hole in the top.

"Careful! Don't let her tilt it up too much..." Elita warned. "She'll get it all over her face and start crying."

Safire's hands where grabbing at each side of the cup and literally trying to thrust the whole thing inside her mouth, something that was physically impossible.

"Slowly Safire, you're going too quick," Optimus admonished her gently. The femling looked up at him over the top of the cup while sucking her energon down.

Elita leaned over them both, watching. "She drinks like you. Quick and messy."

Sabre decided he couldn't see well enough, and wriggled his way behind his Sire to climb up and look down over his shoulder. He clicked at his sister. She was too absorbed with refuelling to click back, but her optics looked at him with interest. Loud sucking sounds signalled that the cup was drained. Optimus helped her tip the cup up to get the last of it out, then took it away at Elita's urging.

"Does she get another one?" Prime asked.

"No, her tank is smaller than Sabre's, she can have half a cup later if she gets demanding, but that is enough for now. Here, watch her," Elita instructed, "she'll lie still for a few moments, then she wants to get down on the floor."

Safire was indeed leaning back against Prime's thickly armored arm with a very blissed out expression and dim optics.

Elita smiled, "Don't be fooled, she'll start squirming and carrying on as soon as the energy hits her systems."

"There you are! I didn't think you'd be anywhere else."

All the bots in the room (even the tiny new one) stared up with open-mouthplates at Ratchet walking in the apartment door, having opened it himself without asking.

"Ratchet!" Elita hissed unpleasantly, "You better learn to damn well KNOCK or I'll shove some medical implements up your aft the wrong way round!"

"I second that..." Optimus growled, "Please ask for permission to come in."

Sabre shrieked, scrambled down off the recharge berth and ducked behind Optimus' large sitting legs, peering out from behind his armor. Not Ratchet! The one with injections and nasty things! He managed a hiss of his own, not as intimidating as Elita's, but good enough.

Appearing only a wee bit embarrassed, Ratchet inclined his head, "I apologise, I will make the effort to... to..." he trailed off. His optics widened. "Uh, er... is Safire alright?"

All optics turned to look down at the femling. She had lifted both arms straight up into the air and was smiling broadly at Ratchet like he was the Cybertronian Santa Claus. Her fingers made grasping motions.

Sabre stared up at her between his Sire's mighty thighs. Was she mad?! That was Monster Ratchet!!

"I think... she wants you for something..." Elita murmured, perplexed. "What is it you're after, sweetie? Is it Ratchet?"

Safire clicked at high pitch. Her optics pleaded. Her hands got more desperate.

Optimus leaned down to look her in the face curiously. "You want to HUG Ratchet?" he said in wonder, figuring it out. "Why?"

Sabre nodded his head vigorously in agreement. Silly sister! Being nice to him didn't mean he wouldn't stick an injection in your aft any more!

"Shut it, lugnut," Ratchet growled at a smirking Optimus, miffed. "Medics can be normal bots too."

"Really? Prove it then," Elita patted Safire on the head. "Let her hug you."

"Uh... right now?" Ratchet's voice was higher-pitched than usual. This was embarrassing.

"Right. Now." Elita removed her femling from Optimus and held her up. "Take her."

Ratchet held his hands out weakly. He wasn't sure this was a great idea. Safire squealed. Her hands grasped at his forearms. With an expression like he was handling a live bomb that Ironhide had yet to dis-arm, the CMO took her into his arms. Safire stared at his chest in wonder for a few moments, then, an odd purring sound started coming from her, and she settled down happily against his chestplates.

A horrified Sabre threw himself against Ratchet's lower legs with a loud 'Grrrrrr!', crashing into them and saying "NO!"

"What the-" Ratchet craned his neck to see down at his feet. Sabre was busy pounding his fists into his leg armor and yelling 'No!'.

Optimus shook with loud laughter, and even Elita snickered behind one hand. Sabre was trying to rescue his sister from Ratchet's evil clutches.

Ratchet stood there with an 'I-give-in' expression. Safire threaded her arms up around his neck and kept purring with adoration. This was the other spark she could feel! It was so nice! Comforting.

"Oh dear," Ratchet sighed dramatically, "one loves me and one hates me."

Sabre didn't answer. He was too busy growling and trying to gnaw his way through Ratchet's chartreuse armor to stop the horrible mech from carrying his sister away.


	23. Chapter 23

**Scent of the Future**

Authors Note: Big, BIG thanks go to _optimus prime 007_ for help, suggestions, and god-like guidance with this. I was in the biggest hole I've ever been in. Unable to write. No ideas. Totally washed out. Heck, I wouldn't even go near my computer for days... but she picked me up, dusted off my aft and popped some amazing ideas into my head to work with. I'm not religious, but, BLESS YOU!

**Chapter 23**

_**Optimus Prime and Elita One's quarters...**_

After a stunned and confused Ratchet had left Optimus and Elita's quarters (and Optimus had made a sulking Sabre apologise to Ratchet for hitting him and trying to gnaw his legs off), Sabre watched his parents continue to smile and coo over everything his new sister did. She smiled? They smiled. She laughed? So did they. He guessed that even if she vomited icky energon all over them, they'd like that to. He loved Safire, he did, it was just... time to go visit Uncle Bee and get some of his own sparkling adoration. Or see the Jazz! He was way cool too. And Ironhide was always good for a cuddle, you just had to make sure he hadn't been using his cannons, or you'd get a heat mark on your armor.

Optimus Prime and Elita One didn't notice when Sabre walked over to the door and stood looking up at it. Frowning. How did they get it to open? Then his optics locked onto the slim crack between the door and the door frame. The nasty Ratchet hadn't closed the door the entire way, and it therefore it hadn't been locked. Oh good! He could slide it.

"SABRE!"

Oh no. Parents.

Sabre paused with his hands on the door and looked at them over his shoulder. "Lita? Bee."

Optimus stood up, taking big steps towards him, "Sabby, where are you going? You can't go out by yourself. Did you say you wanted to see Bumblebee?"

Sabre's stout little shoulders sagged. The big bots were more than able to stop him from going wherever he wanted to go, but he only wanted to go out and see his friends. Optimus and Elita were too busy with Safire to play with him.

Prime halted behind his son, his tall frame making the sparkling feel like he was shrinking. Sabre's head was tilted all the way back to stare up at him.

"If he wants to go out, you can take him to the rec room and see who is there to look after him for a while," Elita suggested, holding the grey protoform of Safire on her lap. "Would that be okay Sabby?"

The mechling nodded his head furiously, clapping his hands. Yes, that would be great.

With a smile on his face, Optimus knelt down and reached out. "Come on Sabby. Let's go. Do you want to sit on my-"

The great Leader was interrupted by Sabre squealing and scrambling at lightning speed up his back to perch like a king on his shoulders. With his short legs protruding either side of Prime's head, Sabre grabbed onto each of his dad's antennae and clicked. Ready to go, Sir!

"Fast little thing, aren't you," Optimus chuckled, rising to his full height with faintly whining gears and hissing hydraulics. "I'll be back shortly, Lita."

The Femme Commander waved at them, "Duck for doors!", laughing at her enormous legendary mate giving their tiny sparkling a ride, not above admiring his sculpted aft and droolworthy long legs as he left. Safire watched them go and looked up at her Mom curiously. Where were the big bot and little bot going? Why couldn't she go?

Elita looked down at her femling with soft blue optics. Safire blinked at her. "You know what Safire, perhaps you can go with Sabre too. I would like a little private time to tell Optimus..." her expression became nervous, "something. About what happened to me. He won't like it, and it's not like I liked it either, I mean, I had to _go_ through it, but he has to be told sometime..."

The red femme was silent for a moment or two more. Her expression closed. Obviously upset. Safire felt her un-easiness through her sparklink. Not understanding it, she reached out a small hand and placed it softly down on Elita's chestplate. Wanting to help.

"Oh Safire," Elita smiled sadly, hugging her to her own spark, "you are so sweet. Thank you. I'm so lucky to have two loving and caring sparklings. Despite Optimus being such a lugnut sometimes, he is a good sire isn't he?"

Safire didn't understand what Elita was talking about. She smiled back anyway.

"Right, let's go, this will be your first visit with the other guys in the rec room. They've seen you before, but you were recharging. You're going to make a lot of sparks melt. Come on!"

Safire giggled at being whooshed down the hallway by her smoothly loping mother. This was the fastest she'd ever gone before! This was great! Her fingers hung on tightly to the ridges of Elita's armor, a big grin on her faceplates. They were chasing after the big striding bot ahead of them.

"Wha..?" Optimus stiffened and halted at the entrance to the rec room, turning around, recognising instantly the identity of the running footsteps behind him. "Elita, what's wrong?! Are you okay? You shouldn't be running like that, you've been sick-"

"Oh shoosh, I'm fine. No problem, tired not terminal," she pulled up next to him, holding Safire to her chest. "We just wanted to come with you, that's all. I want to talk to you. In private. The guys won't mind looking after Safire too, I hope, especially if Sabre is there to make her feel safe."

Her son thrust out his chest and went all self-important at that. Noseplates lifted up into the air. Of course he'd look after Saffy!

Prime gazed down at his female mate. His optics roamed her ever-delightful chassis. "You want to... you want private time? Shouldn't we ask Ratchet about that first?"

Elita felt the not-so-subtle playful nudge at their sparklink. She groaned, leaning into the side of his awesome body. "I'm not referring to _that_! Optimus! Your interface is directly wired to your CPU, you know that?! Primus above.."

Despite her words she was glad he was acting playful, because after what she was going to tell him, it was going to be a long time before he felt that way again. When Prime's anger was roused, he was frightening and near un-stoppable. Maybe she'd need Ironhide or Ultra Magnus as back-up, they were the strongest. Better make that a 'definite'.

"Sabre!" Jazz's gleeful visored face was thrusting out the doorway at them. "My favourite little bot!" The visor glanced sideways at Elita – and Jazz's jaw unhinged itself. "SAFIRE TOO! I'm dreamin'!"

A low moan of 'Primus, here we go _again_' came from the unfortunate Prowl inside the room.

As Optimus proceeded inside the room on long striding legs, his sparkling still sitting on his shoulders, Elita shrieked "DUCK!" in just enough time to prevent Sabre from losing his head. The little bot shrank down to avoid hitting the door, hanging off Optimus like he was a motorcycle. Having received such a fright, the mechling lifted a hand and smacked his sire on the back of the helmet with a twitter of admonishment.

Prime grimaced in embarrassment, "Sorry Sabre, my bad..."

Elita came walking in after her mate, carrying their precious female sparkling Safire, who was clinging to the rose red armor of her Mom's chest. Currently only Jazz and Prowl were inside the room, but guessing from the sound of many bots walking down the hallway, that was about to change. The Femme Commander didn't wish to spend too much time showing off Safire to gawking and drooling mech's. She wanted some private time with Optimus – to explain about her scar... and she desperately hoped the outcome would NOT result in half the base being blown into smoking chunks by her rampaging massive mech.

Elita took a seat at the nearest table, pushing her chair back and settling Safire onto her lap. Jazz fitted himself with a smooth slide into the seat next to her, his optics zip-tied onto little Safire, a big silly grin on his faceplates.

"Can I say hello?" Jazz enquired politely.

"You'll have to ask her, Jazz," Elita said, smiling gently with pride, "do you want to meet Jazz, Safire?"

The small femme was staring at the silver mech with as much interest as Jazz was looking at her. She couldn't see his optics, they were hidden by something protruding from his head. She reached out and cautiously gripped the edge of the table in front of her, looking around, making no move towards him. Optimus dropped himself down into the next seat over, then thought he'd better be more gentle next time when the chair groaned and protested at the rough treatment.

Sabre clambered down from his head and sat upon the table. His optics lit up at Jazz. "Bee!"

Jazz smiled and shook hands with the mechling, allowing Sabre to grasp one of his fingers and shake it enthusiastically. "Hiya Sabby. How you been doin', alright?"

Sabre squeaked and pointed at Safire proudly.

"Oh, I know, I know! I'm tryin' to say hello, but she looks shy."

Safire was looking at Jazz but making no move to smile or even let him any closer. She held her hands clasped together and wasn't letting anyone get close.

Great thumping footsteps and a growling deep voice came through the door, "Why the slag are we all being summoned to the damn-" Ironhide's roving optics caught sight of Safire perched on Elita's lap. "Hn."

He didn't miss the glowering expression on Prime's face and the narrowed optics of Elita One, the couple displaying their disapproval of his swearing and rough entrance. Whoops. "Oh. Yeah. Like I was saying. So glad to be here. Hello Safire." He dumped his aft in a chair with a grunt, arms and legs akimbo. A big black disorganised mass.

Safire shrank back against Elita with a clunk. Optics wide. What WAS this huge black thing?! It looked awful! It was frightening! Not knowing what else to do, she placed both hands over her optics to block out the scary sight. She sighed with relief. Much better. Can't see it, means it's not there.

Jazz spluttered with laughter. Even Prowl displayed a wry smile, chin in one hand.

"Oh Safire," Elita sighed, "That's just Ironhide. He's okay."

Optimus chuckled, leaning on the table with his elbows, "Yes, that was my reaction the first time I met Ironhide too, Safire. He won't hurt you, and he's good for hiding behind when the Decepticons drop in."

Elita frowned, "Optimus, please don't mention _those_ around her yet. She'll have bad memory loads during recharge."

"Sorry, Lita," Prime inclined his head in apology.

Chromia stomped through the door after her gruesome sparkmate, her blue armor bearing the scars of repeated weaponry fire, not pleased with how her practise round on the target range had turned out. "You scarin' sparklings again, 'Hide? You better tell the little sweetie that you don't eat young ones anymore." She flipped a hand up to her head in a perfect salute. "Hey Lita! Optimus, sir."

"Hi Mia."

"Hello Chromia."

Chromia paused, looking down at Safire. Her body twisted around and she got down slowly into a crouch between Elita and Jazz. Her voice lowered. "And who is this? The new one? She's awake and cute."

Safire pulled her hands partially away from her face. This bot looked much more welcoming. There was a smile, a soft voice, and a spark very much like her Mom's. She looked up at the big wide bot, Optimus. He smiled softly back at her. He was a comforting presence. Hmmm. Well, okay then.

With a stretch of her short arms she offered herself up for a hug from Chromia.

Chromia lifted her head in surprise. She hadn't expected the little thing to do that, but oh well. Better go with it. The blue femme found it awkward to hug the tiny femling, so after an encouraging nod from Elita, and with Optimus watching on, she carefully lifted Safire up and held her while she was kneeling on the ground. Safire sighed and pressed her face into Chromia's shoulder. Quite comfortable. This one was warm! But smelt funny...

"Hey, what about me?!" Jazz pouted, pushing back his chair, disappointed.

"If you require a hug I'll do it, Jazz, don't fret." Prowl sighed.

Ironhide started to laugh when the warrior femme accepted Safire's hug; hugging back too. He knew his femme wasn't the progenitor type. She had never wanted to replace her guns with a crying, puking, pain-in-the-aft sparkling, but maybe, just maybe, she'd change her mind after being around Elita and Prime's brats. For himself, he liked sparklings, he just tried not to show it too much. He didn't want his rep battered.

"Here," Chromia lifted Safire up to return her to Elita, "you better take her back."

"Er, well, actually," Elita kept her hands in her lap and peered sideways nervously at Optimus, "I was looking for someone who might look after her and Sabre for a bit. Not for too long. There was something I wanted to do without them around."

Chromia arched her optic ridges. "Oh?" The sparkling was okay for a cuddle but she didn't want to make it permanent. Nor did she want to sparkling-sit while Elita got on top of her ginormous mate and got funky with it, if that's what she was referring to!

Ironhide snorted, lifting his mass out of the chair with a chorus of creaking joints and a grumble about old age, "S'okay Mia, we can do that. You take Safire and I'll handle Sabre." He fixed a bewildered Optimus and a thankful Elita with a look each. "Not too long, right?"

Jazz's head jerked back and forth, "But... but... me and Prowl can do it! We're good sitters!"

"...What?" Prowl spluttered, and twitched nervously. He wasn't holding a sparkling! Let alone 'looking after' it too!

"Sorry Jazz, but I think Safire would be better with Chromia for her first time away from me. Thank you, Mia. Ironhide." She stood, stroked a soft hand over Safire's head and patted Sabre's back, "We'll be back soon, guys. C'mon Optimus, we need to talk."

While Elita left the room, taking her curious hunk of a mech with her, Chromia stood up. She held onto Safire with both hands, keeping her away from her own body and looked the shy little femme up and down, frowned, then looked at Ironhide with totally confused optics. "Does she leak?" she asked.

_**Optimus and Elita's quarters...**_

Elita One sat on the edge of her and Prime's recharge berth, looking down at her hands resting in her lap on her rose armor. How was she going to tell him? She knew he would react... violently... but what else would he do? Would he hate her? Think she was weaker than he had always believed?

She had to tell him, there was no way out of this. He had been so kind and understanding to not push her to reveal what had happened to cause the scar marring her protoform but she could not deny him forever. She had felt the waves of disturbance and worry coming from him over their bond. She'd gently pushed his hands away and shaken her head when his hands had reached to lift her midsection armor and look underneath when they were intimate.

With a sigh she stared up at the ceiling. Now was the time.

"Take your time, Lita." His soft words were reassuring, as always.

She looked sideways at him. He stood there patiently. Hands behind his back. Waiting for her to speak. A big red and blue rock of a mech with glowing optics. If only he had been there to help her... she shook her head abruptly at herself. It was of no use to go down that self-pitying path again!

Elita spoke slowly, pulling all the courage she could muster up from her spark, "I believe it would be better to show you rather than try to articulate the unspeakable."

Optimus Prime stiffened when she stood up. Slowly, with some hesitation, the femme began retracting her armor, her optics lifting to latch onto his uneasy gaze. Her paint glistened under the lights as the armor rolled and swept back from covering her protoform. When it was neatly arrayed on her back, Optimus could see a neat patch of protoform welding covering her over from her hip, along her belly, and up under her chest in a long line to disappear under her armpit. His optics narrowed. It did appear that it was not the injury itself, however. He had thought _that_ was the scar. But it wasn't. It was covering something up...

His chest tightened and his hands clenched into fists when Elita lifted her delicate hands and began gingerly rolling back the fabric-like bandage.

Optimus began to stutter at what was finally revealed, his hands lifting in denial. "W-what... no, Elita, that's... no. _Primus_. Oh Lita..." The big mech was shaking his head, mouthplates wide open, optics flickering.

The wound sunk deep into Elita's body had never healed well enough to come completely together. Its edges were frayed and unkempt, the sides of the wound only touching each other at selected intervals along the length of the injury.

Optimus weakly dropped to both knees, putting himself low enough to peer closely at the sickening sight. "Who? WHO?! Elita, how?!" His head dropped down for a moment, and a keening sound of misery came up from his chest. "I felt this, I knew, _something_ was happening to you, but it was so faint." His head jerked upright again. "Oh Elita, I'm sorry I wasn't there. I should've been. _I should have been_! What good am I if I can be there for everyone else but not you!"

His hands were lifted up in front of his face, clenched hard into fists, his optics thick with a mixture of horror and distress.

Elita herself was a lot calmer than she thought she would be. Her face was sad but not distraught like her mate's. She stood tall on propped legs, letting him see for himself the extent of her damage.

"You couldn't have done anything apart from helping to stop the energon flow, Optimus. The attack was too quick and close-up. It was forceful. Surprising." Her optic covers blinked slowly. "Painful." She forced herself to get out the next few words. "Especially from a friend."

Prime's optics widened, he gaped at her, "FRIEND?!"

Elita's head nodded slowly. "Jetfire." Her optics dimmed, faceplates shifting so her mouth was in a rigid line. "It was Jetfire."

"_JETFIRE_?!"

**NEXT:** I'm writing as fast as I can! Does Optimus go berserk? Does Ratchet have an Optimus-Prime-Sized-Restraint-Jacket?! Does Ironhide have to shoot him in the aft? We'll see...


	24. Chapter 24

**Scent of the Future**

Authors Note: This a short update, but any update is a good one! I hope...

**Chapter 24**

_**Autobot base rec room, shortly after the departure of Optimus Prime and Elita One...**_

"You're a bit late."

Ultra Magnus stopped and looked up, bringing up one hand to rub the back of this neck. "Oh, yes, I was... um... didn't Jazz say Elita was in here with the new little one? I came as quickly as I could."

"Yeah. The others have left for their shifts, but Elita left her with us, said she had to talk to Prime about something, I reckon it was more than 'talking'. So here she is - look." Ironhide smirked, lowered his head, and pointed a black finger across the table at his sparkmate; Chromia; who was gingerly holding Safire in her lap. The warrior femme had a mixed expression of curiosity, wariness, and faint resignation. Safire was perched very comfortably with her hands clutching at the edge of the tabletop and looking around. Sabre was sitting on the floor and playing with the box of toys that was kept in the corner for him.

Chromia perked up at Magnus' entrance, "Oh, hey Magnus, you can have a turn at holding her," she lifted Safire and held the blinking confused femling with curled up limbs towards him hopefully, "all yours!"

The optics of the huge blue and white mech widened and he backed up a step, "Uh... I don't think... um..."

Safire stared at the big bot with equal apprehension, mouthplates open – who are you? Dad with a new paint job and sunglasses?

"Nice try Mia, but he has even less experience with under-sized vomiting things than you do," Ironhide said gruffly, "Anyway, he's still learning from Ratch where sparklings come from."

Rejected, Chromia sighed and re-settled Safire onto her lap. One of her hands patted the femlings head. She'd begged Prowl to allow Jazz to skip his shift and stay with them – Jazz was great with sparklings! – but the stoic mech had refused, shoving a whimpering Jazz along and leaving her to it. Damn. She was so uncomfortable with this sparkling...

Deciding that she didn't have to move after all, Safire snuggled up to Chromia's chest with a happy squeak. A finger went to her mouth and stayed in it. She was watching Sabre play with his toys and wondering when it would be her turn.

"Ironhide," Ultra Magnus growled, his enormous frame stiffening, "I do not find procreation jokes at my expense _funny_."

"Yeah? I do. Sabby, I think Magnus needs a hug to cheer him up," Ironhide directed Sabre.

Sabre carefully put down his current toy and looked upwards. Whoa. That was one big bot. But if 'Hide said so... With a grunt, he got to his feet and skipped over to the mech that looked so much like his Sire, but wasn't. Short arms reached out and encompassed one of Magnus' long legs, squeezing. It looked like a mouse annoying an elephant.

While giving a snickering Ironhide the look-of-death, Magnus patted Sabre and said, "Thank you" with a glitching vocaliser.

"Awww, I think we should make that a double hug, don't you think?" Chromia began to stand up, offering Safire again while Ironhide laughed.

Magnus began to hiss, "Don't you dare", when he was interrupted by the most full-bore scream of male fury he'd ever heard. At the same time, Sabre shrieked and curled up into a tight ball, crying loudly. Safire had wide optics and was hunched over, hugging her suddenly sore chest. Her and Sabre's sparks were _painful_. They were being bombarded with the most awful emotions from their Sire's end of the fragile spark link they all shared.

Shocked – and trying to work out just what was happening to make a mech emit a scream like that – Chromia hugged a wriggling and hysterically crying Safire to her chest. "Ironhide, what the SLAG was that?!" A bright flash at her hip told him she had summoned her rifle from subspace and was ready to rip someone a new aft if they were being attacked.

Ironhide scooped up Sabre grimly. The little mechling was absolutely howling. "Neh. That's Optimus. He doesn't sound amused either."

Horrendous tearing and screeching sounds that sounded like the base was being demolished from the other end overwhelmed everyone's audios. Ultra Magnus and Ironhide locked optics simultaneously. They'd just received a frantic comlink communication for help from Elita.

Optimus Prime was going berserk.

_**Optimus Prime and Elita One's quarters...**_

Elita One cringed and ducked backwards against the remaining wall of their quarters – Optimus' truck form had destroyed the other two. He'd driven straight through it, not bothering with the door. He was beyond furious.

It was a frightening sight to see her mate appear to increase his already fearsome height and width to something even more spectacular as his whole frame was flooded with the result of his fury; broadening and lengthening his muscle cables, faceplates drawing into a tight grimace of anger, weapon systems humming, hands snapping into fists; it had been his facemask slamming into place with a sharp metallic thunk from each side of his wide jawline that had signalled the end of the change and given her time to step backwards and cover her upper body – not from fear of him hurting her, but from worry of what debris might haphazardly come her way from his physical wrath.

His nearly black optics had swept over her once (causing her spark to shiver within its casing) before he transformed and tore through the walls. The metal wall had hesitated for a mere microsecond before realising it wasn't worth the effort to resist the force of the enraged Peterbilt truck ramming it. It burst like a split banana.

Optimus in this state was NOT something the universe could handle easily.

"Elita?!"

Slowly, the quiet femme turned her head slightly, brushing dust out of her optics, "I'm sorry Ironhide, I had to tell him, he had to know, I was going to... going to... _warn_ you."

The buckling walls had made the sliding apartment door jam. Not a problem for two determined strong mechs. Magnus and Ironhide had ripped it off, entering the room and coming up behind the femme while taking in the devastation.

Ironhide strode to stand beside her and stared off into the distance with a raised chin at Prime's dust cloud. His cannons whirred and whistled upon his arms. "Hn. I don't suppose asking him nicely to come back will work. Who is he going to kill, Lita?"

Ultra Magnus gave Ironhide a wild look. _KILL?!_

Elita wasn't fazed by the blunt question. She clasped her hands in front of her with resignation. "...Jetfire..."

Shocked, Ultra Magnus stared at Elita's bowed head, "Jetfire?! But... he's... he isn't even on the planet!"

Ironhide frowned, "Which means he'll be back. The humans don't have the type of transportation Prime is after so he can track his prey. He's looking for a ship."

Elita turned away from them, walking towards a corner with her hands over her head. _Slag, slag, slag_. She could still feel him simmering with power. He wasn't incoherent with rage, Prime wasn't like that. When he was over-the-edge angry, his CPU was sharper than any other she could think of. He was direct (hence the wall stunt; doors were an unwanted detour), more powerful than Megatron because he was no longer held back by inhibitions like his conscience or social principles, and likely to use his ferocious talents on foe or friend to achieve a resolution for his anger. He couldn't be talked to or reasoned with. His CPU was on one mission – the destruction of Jetfire.

Ultra Magnus perched his hands palm down on his hips. Thinking. Optimus needed a ship... but where was one that – oh pit, the _ARK_! Optimus could bring it down from orbit or just rocket up to it using his comet mode! "PROWL!!"

"Already on it." Prowl's steady voice signalled his arrival.

Magnus looked around. Jazz was at the wrecked door keeping the others back. Bumblebee appeared distraught, while Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were gawking at the damage done by their Commander. Wheeljack hovered behind the Twins.

Prowl was grim-faced, coming to stand between the bigger mechs. "Ironhide, he has the command codes for the _ARK_, he's Prime, I cannot lock him out. He can take it."

"Frag..." Ironhide growled, his gaze hunting around the room while he thought.

"Why aren't we going after him?! What's wrong-" Bumblebee burst out, pushing his yellow frame through the doorway and butting Jazz aside (getting the silver co-lieutenant to slap him and shove back) as his voice shorted out into a mess of squeaks and coughing.

"Bumblebee..." Ironhide warned.

"SABBY! Safire!" Elita gasped, running for the door. She had managed to dampen down Prime's feedback from overwhelming their sparklink which then allowed the pain and bewilderment from their sparklings to reach her awareness. "MOVE!"

"Femme coming through! Look out!" Sideswipe slammed his back to the wall as Elita darted through the mangled doorway and ran down the corridor, dodging around a swiftly walking Ratchet.

"ELITA~! Are you hurt?!" Ratchet shouted after her, running a remote scan on the fast femme. "Humph, doesn't look like it if she can run that fast."

The Femme Commander burst in the door of the rec room to the sounds of hysterical crying and high-pitched wails from her two sparklings. Chromia was crouched on the floor with Safire on one side and Sabre on the other. Both sparklings were holding onto her for dear life and making enough noise for half the Autobot army.

"Oh Primus... I'm sorry guys, I'm sorry. I'm here now," Elita dove down to her knees and reached out with both hands. She gathered them to her and nuzzled them both, resting her head in turns on theirs. Holding tight. "Slag, I am such an _idiot_. I didn't THINK how much this would impact on you two."

Sabre lifted his head to look up at her with fragile optics and a whimper, tapping his chest to show her where it hurt. Safire stayed with her face pushed into Elita's shoulder, shuddering.

Chromia watched with a sad smile, sitting back on her heels, hands on knees. "You really fragged him off, huh? That's what this is about?"

"It wasn't what **I** did," Elita said with more venom than she intended, "it's what someone else did." She looked down at how Sabre and Safire were suffering. _Damn it Optimus, you're hurting our sparklings! STOP IT!_

Abruptly, she felt a cut-off in the sparklink. Like someone had chopped it. At first she thought he had stopped his rampage, but then she explored the link further, feeling it out, and realised what her mate had done – he'd cut them off totally. His end was blank. Empty. She couldn't feel him at all!

She squeezed Sabre and Safire harder, rocking back and forth, crying out with her spark into an empty void,_ OPTIMUS!!!_


	25. Chapter 25

**Scent of the Future**

**Chapter 25**

Prowl stood with his hands cradling his cheek. Thinking. He was right when he'd said he couldn't stop Optimus from accessing their spaceship, the _ARK_, but what if they hacked into their own ship? Prime had the command codes, but so what? They'd force the ships intelligence to change the codes. Oh yes, it might work...

"JAZZ! I need you!" Prowl cried, spinning on one foot to look at his berth partner.

The small silver mech strode forward, dodging around Bumblebee. "Wassup?"

_**Out in the desert...**_

Optimus Prime's vehicle form came to a shuddering halt, his over-large wheels digging into the compacted sand. He began transforming, completing the task with a speed he rarely used, straightening up and flexing the muscle cables of his chest and arms. His fury was driving him onwards to complete his task of taking down Jetfire. His right hand curled into a fist, his thick bicep muscle cables exerting their force with ease.

Prime's body-hugging armor that sculpted his giant form glinted in the dying sunlight as he looked up into the sky with intense blue optics. The _ARK_ was up there, and he wanted it. He couldn't hunt down Jetfire without it. The ship was his, he was its Commander and if he required it to complete his mission, then so be it. He activated his internal comlink, sending a CPU-dazzling array of codes and instructions to the mighty ship sleeping in orbit far above his head.

The _ARK_ began to respond to him – Prime had every faith that it would do so – then it was abruptly cut off.

Silent.

Slightly puzzled, Optimus again sent out a flash burst of Command data, ordering the Autobot flagship to break orbit and descend to his position on Earth.

This time there was no response at all.

The huge mech narrowed his optics. He knew he was being blocked. His weapons systems hummed along with his desire to shoot something. If the ARK was no longer responding, then using his comet mode was no use either. He'd get up there only to find all the doors locked and inaccessible, and the armor was far too thick for even him to break through. The only one capable of changing the codes and keeping him out of his own ship was...

A deep furious growl of anger exploded into a roar that nothing else on Earth could match - "_JAZZ_!!"

_**Back at the base, Jazz's office...**_

"This is makin' me nervous, guys..." Jazz sat at his own computer terminal, all joviality gone, his happy and smiling demeanour tucked away. This was serious. He'd just locked Optimus out of his own battleship. He really didn't want the giant angry mech coming after _his_ aft too.

"Nervous or not, Optimus cannot be allowed to take control of the _ARK,"_ Prowl intoned, arms crossed over his chest. "He will thank us later for this."

Jazz turned his optics up towards his partner, "This is _court martial_ territory. We're deliberately stopping our superior officer from using his own battleship. Our aft's will be _toasted_!"

"_Your_ aft will be burnt, Jazz, we didn't push the buttons, you did," Ironhide said helpfully, making Jazz moan and cover his aft with his hands.

"We have to go after him, stop him!" Bumblebee keened, rocking on his feet.

"I agree. Stopping him from accessing the ARK is not enough. We can't leave him out there rampaging around," Ultra Magnus said seriously.

Ironhide grunted at them, waving a dismissing hand, "You forget; Prime is the best warrior we have. We're so used to his gentle side that most of you don't realise how dangerous he is. You don't mess with Prime. He's huge enough and strong enough to destroy whoever and whatever he wants, so don't get in his way."

"Hello? Not exactly a mini-bot here, Ironhide," Magnus said determinedly, gesturing at his own over-sized body which contained enough mass to rival Prime's, "no offence Bumblebee."

Bumblebee raised a finger.

Magnus continued, "And in any case, someone should have told Jetfire that before he messed with Elita."

Jazz's optics widened as he thought about facing down a charging and angry Optimus. He'd worked long enough with the Bossbot to know how much strength and cunning he had. He grabbed onto Prowl's hand. "Uh, Prowler? You don't mind if I stand behind you, do you?"

Ratchet had at first stood back near the entrance of the room, listening to what the other mech's were saying before he stalked into the room, surveying them with wise optics, "No one has to stand behind anybody. All we have to do is get _this_," the medic held up a syringe full of creamy liquid, "between his armor plates somewhere and into his protoform, and he'll drop down senseless."

"Nap time?" Bumblebee enquired, getting up close to the vial with inquisitive optics.

"Oh, no, no, no, Ironhide was just tellin' us that anyone who gets near Optimus is a _goner_," Jazz spluttered, still hanging onto Prowl's stiff hand. He could face Decepticons. He could face Megatron. But... _Optimus_? Nope.

Ratchet gave Jazz a withering stare, "It will require some team work and strategy, I concede that, yes, but it can be done. It needs to be done. Inject this into his protoform and we can then get him quietly and calmly back to base for some therapy."

"Hn." Ironhide eyed off Ultra Magnus, sizing up his bulk. "Wanna give this a go? Up for some Optimus hunting?"

Ultra Magnus smiled faintly, "Oh yes, I've been wanting to stiff Optimus with something pointy for years..."

Prowl was the only dissenter, frowning, "Shouldn't we discuss this with Elita first? I don't think she would approve of us drugging him."

"Do you WANT to get shot in the aft?" Ironhide said with disbelief, staring at Prowl.

Ultra Magnus hesitated, mouth open, then he had to reluctantly admit that Prowl was right. He turned back to face the others. "He's right Ironhide. We should discuss this with Elita. Optimus is her mech."

"More than that, we need to think what Optimus would do if it was one of us out there going berserk," Prowl said firmly, facing up to Ironhide.

"I'm telling you, if I was out there, Prime would have no problem shooting me in the aft plates with whatever weapon was closest to hand," Ironhide grumped, rolling his shoulders.

"Yes, but that's _you_, Ironhide, any of us would shoot you too," Magnus responded off-handedly.

Ironhide growled at him.

Ratchet rolled his optics, "You lot don't really have any idea what's going on here, do you? Optimus is a bonded male who just found out that someone tried to kill his sparkmate. We cannot override his instinctive programmed reaction by _talking_ to him. Drugging him until his base programming calms down is the only thing we can do."

Ultra Magnus gently put his hands on Ratchet's shoulders and began turning the shorter mech around, urging him to the door, "Sounds great, Ratchet. Now, you're the one who is going to explain this to Elita, okay? Medical bots are very good at dodging punches."

_**In the rec room...**_

Elita One rocked herself back and forth in her chair, holding both of her sparklings on her lap. She kept reaching out over the intimate sparkbond she shared with Optimus and even though it was cut off from his end, she hoped he would suddenly come to his senses and resurrect it. He wasn't responding to her comlink calls either. She kept trying.

Sabre was holding onto her armor with both hands, a sad expression on his face. Safire had one hand in her mother's hand, and fingers of the other in her mouth, chewing on it worriedly.

"Does Optimus really think he can roam the universe trying to find Jetfire?" Chromia said into the awkward silence in the room, looking up from running fingers over her outer armor.

"Yes," Elita replied softly, not taking her optics off her two sparklings. With Optimus himself off on a wild rampage and her sparklink to him cut-off, Sabre and Safire were the only pieces of him she had left. "I wish he wouldn't. I thought this would happen."

"Humph," Chromia scowled, "Optimus only had to ask Ironhide or myself to take care of Jetfire, he doesn't need to be leaving you like this. He's worrying everybody." The hard-case warrior femme gave Elita a scrutinising look. "Care to tell me why Jetfire was gunning for you?"

Elita bent over her sparklings, hiding her face, "... I don't want to discuss it..."

"Uh huh. Ok-ay." Chromia shook her head, muttering. Elita always had been stubborn. Usually it was a good trait in a Commander but sometimes... not.

Both femmes heard the clatter of big mech feet coming down the hallway. They looked up. Ratchet was leading Ultra Magnus, Ironhide and Prowl into the room. Jazz and Bumblebee had stayed behind to monitor Optimus from his computer, in case the Prime continued to batter away at his codes for the _ARK_. The mech's all looked uneasy. Bad news?

Ultra Magnus spoke first, "Elita, we think we've found a way to contain Optimus but we'd like to run it past you first. Ratchet?"

Curious, Elita turned to face the CMO. Safire – seeing her most favourite mech after Optimus – squeaked and waved her hands at him. Ratchet graced her with a rare small smile.

"To cut a long story into one little piece..." Ratchet drew in through his air in-takes, hoping the Femme Commander didn't go after his aft like Optimus was going after Jetfire's, "I believe we can sedate Optimus to bring him under control safely and quickly. He is too dangerous to be controlled otherwise."

The other mech's stayed very still. Chromia stared at her sparkmate Ironhide with arched optic ridges in an 'Oh really?' expression.

Prowl threw in his piece. "Our plan is for Ironhide and Ultra Magnus to chase after him and attempt talking to him first, but if that fails, Ratchet has a sedative which we can shoot Prime with or jab it between his armor into his protoform if we can get close enough. He should drop easily without fuss."

Ironhide looked at Prowl like he was nuts, _Oh, nice one Prowl, make it sound like Optimus is a cow we're trying to catch and barbeque!_

"Shoot him?" Elita's optics blinked rapidly. "With a sedative dart?"

Ratchet nodded, saying firmly, "Yes, that's right. I have calculated the correct dose strength to knock him out for long enough to bring him back here."

Sabre giggled, holding up one hand like a gun and exclaiming, "POW~!"

Elita grabbed Sabre's hand, shushing him, before speaking angrily, "I don't want you hurting Optimus! He doesn't deserve to be stabbed in the aft! He's not hurting anyone with what he's doing!"

"...retreat, retreat..." Ironhide muttered, backing up towards the door and trying to shove his way past Ultra Magnus who wouldn't move.

"He's hurting you, Elita," Ratchet said calmly "and our Leader shouldn't be acting like this. We want to bring him back here as quickly and quietly as possible."

Elita hissed, "So you think he's gone mad?! He doesn't need chasing down, he needs some understanding! You want to take him down and lock him up!"

"He hasn't gone crazy, but he is affected by the sparklink he shares with you, meaning that his core programming has been taken over his logic centre to protect and avenge you and your sparklings. Jetfire is still loose and Prime's course of action involves removing any threat against you." Ratchet kept control of his legendary anger. Elita didn't need his emotions coming into it.

The femme stared at Ultra Magnus and Ironhide. Both of them were big and burly. She couldn't imagine either of them bringing an over-sized mech like Optimus down 'gently'. Big mech's clashing was usually a 'bang, crash and thud' affair. She wanted to chase the lot of them out of the room with her rifle taking shots at their aft's, however, she had young to take care of, and her mech was gone – off on a crazy mission to destroy Jetfire when none of them knew where in the universe the traitor was. Realistically, Optimus could spend many Earth months trying to get to Jetfire. She also couldn't leave her sparklings alone and try getting Optimus to come back herself. Their chests still hurt where Optimus had cut off the link he shared with not just her but their sparklings too. She wouldn't leave them alone until everything was right again.

It hurt her spark to think of her mech being slugged with a sharp dart in the rear (or wherever the sickos wanted to shove it) but if they tried talking, and Optimus was too far gone to listen...

Elita sighed, her head sagging. "Alright. You can do it."

Ironhide stopped trying to scramble past a resistant Magnus. He looked at Elita with pure surprise, "Yeah?"

"But you must promise me – _truly_ promise me – that you will exhaust all other avenues first. Talking, persuading, you know the drill." Elita's sharp but weary optics rested on them all one-by-one. She was trusting them to treat her mech right.

Ultra Magnus inclined his head, "I promise with all my spark."

Chromia had to punch Ironhide in the thigh to get his grunt of assent, "OWW! What! – oh yeah. Right. Er, I agree."

"Thank you, Elita," Prowl nodded at the Femme Commander. "I will oversee the mission and keep you informed."

Once again, Sabre looked up at the big mechs surrounding his mother and made his gun hand, "POW!"

Ironhide grinned when Chromia rolled her optics at him. "Yeah kid. POW. Straight at Prime's af-"

"IRONHIDE!" Chromia and Elita shrieked angrily.


	26. Chapter 26

**Scent of the Future**

Authors Note: This is a HUGE update, over 4000 words! Sheesh! I got a new computer and my internet/email was cut off for a while. Drove me nuts! But at least I got plenty of time to write this chappie. Enjoy! I'd also like to recommend two fics - "Alls Fair" By steelcrash, and "Matter of Survival" By StSE. Both fun, a little off center, but good!

**Chapter 26**

"Take these, one won't be enough."

Ratchet held up a small case containing ten more fluid filled darts like the first one he'd given to Ironhide, all of them carefully loaded with just enough sedative to take Optimus Prime down fast. The Weapons Master took the offered case with a grunt.

"Hey Mags, we can do a spray shot with all of these. One or two of them is bound to hit him," Ironhide rumbled, thinking over strategies in his head.

"We are NOT spraying them all over the place. Prime could pick one up and hit one of us with it, which would do us no good to be out on the ground senseless. Instant mission failure." Ultra Magnus said calmly, retro-fitting his laser rifle with a dart shooter. He slammed the dart cylinder into place with his fist, smiling with satisfaction as he hefted his rifle and inspected it. "I'm good to go."

Elita One watched the hunting party prepare. Neither Ironhide or Magnus were small inconsequential mechs – they were large, powerful and experienced; good mech's to chose for such a hazardous job as tackling her very own over-sized mech - but it left her cold to realise they were going after Optimus, not Decepticons. When Ratchet had held up the extra darts, she'd shuddered, thinking that one of the horrible sharp things would soon be sticking into the precious metal of her mech. She kept murmuring reassurances to herself that they were doing the right thing. They couldn't let Optimus run around seeking revenge. He was going to hurt someone eventually, and if Optimus himself came back to his senses, he would agree that stopping him was the best idea.

Ironhide brought out two dart guns from subspace, grunting to himself as he checked them over and made sure they were loaded up.

Elita watched the Weapons Specialist with narrowed optics. She trusted Magnus to do his best to not damage Optimus, but Ironhide... he had a sick sense of humor. Give him a dart gun and the chance to shoot at poor Optimus, the results were unlikely to be pretty.

Optimus Prime was the sire of her sparklings. She wouldn't let him get hurt because another mech wanted to have fun at his expense.

"Ironhide."

"Yeah?"

"I want your word that you will treat this as a simple deploy and shoot mission. No games, no fun, no unnecessary grappling." Elita had taken a step closer to the big black mech with every word she said; her optics blazing, her words cold and clipped. Her very paint appeared to be darkening in color. The femme got on the tips of her feet, stabbing the finger of one hand into Ironhide's wide chest. "Tell me that you understand what I'm saying."

Ultra Magnus straightened up from leaning over his rifle, watching the petite Femme Commander face up to the taller Ironhide. Cute. It was times like this that re-enforced Magnus' understanding of why Prime had chosen Elita for a mate. That femme was _dangerous_, and Prime apparently liked that in a female, since he hadn't chosen any of the other numerous femmes that had vied for his attention.

"Hn," Ironhide's optics angled themselves down to survey the frosty femme. "I will do my best."

Elita's hand curled around his chest armor and yanked him down so hard he was bent over. "_Promise_," she hissed with a snarl.

"Eh. Promise."

The femmes' hand relaxed, allowing Ironhide to stand upright again. A contented but wary smile appeared on her faceplates. "Thank you. I will hold you to it."

Standing quietly at the back of the room, Ratchet smirked. That femme was a live one alright.

Chromia poked her head in the doorway. Elita hadn't wanted her sparklings in the room to see the two big mech's handling weapons. "Lita? Safire is getting pretty upset, she won't calm down, we need you."

"I'm coming." Elita took one last look at Ultra Magnus and Ironhide before ducking out the door. "Good luck."

Once she was gone, Magnus gave Ironhide a critical look, "You better restrict your quota of dents in Prime's chassis to less than one, my friend."

_**Out in the desert...**_

Optimus Prime was still and quiet in the morning sunshine, a tall structure of armored Cybertronian metal, his optics dull as he contemplated his mission internally at an incredible speed. He had repeatedly tried to access the _ARK, _keeping Jazz awake and on his pedes through the night to keep his Leader from hijacking the ship.

The massive Commander had more than one plan to fall back on – as intelligent Commanders were wont to do. He'd been assessing the capability of the human's own spacecraft to use, but their design was so laughably inadequate he hadn't seriously considered it. The shuttle barely had enough power to lift itself, it couldn't carry his weight as well, and the thing was hopelessly designed for interstellar space travel; as anything using such antique propellants would be. It would take so long to reach Cybertron that his own molecules would have crumbled away into dust before he got within communications distance. He'd thought about strapping TWO of the useless things together... but no.

Another option was to build his own ship. He was currently accessing the internet for more information on the suitability of Earth's native metals. His database held all the plans and engineering information on the _ARK_, something he could apply to making a considerably smaller ship just for him.

There was a small part of Prime's processor that was clamouring for him to listen about the plight of his sparkmate and sparklings – they were abandoned without his protection and assistance. His core programming kept it muted. Elita, Sabre, and Safire were within the safety of the base, surrounded by his own warrior mech's. They were protected and safe. He needed to get Jetfire. He was a threat against the existence of his family.

Prime's regal head lifted as his sensors shrieked a warning. His optics flared then narrowed. Two mech's were approaching his position. While they were still several cliks away, it took his processor mere moments to ID them – his Weapons Specialist; Ironhide and his Executive Officer/City Commander; Ultra Magnus.

Optimus growled deeply. He was not going to put up with any interference. His hand reached over his shoulder for his 'persuader'; the huge rifle he kept nestled between his shoulders on his back. His fingers gripped the mighty weapon and withdrew it from its perch. The metallic rifle made a whistling sound of its metal contacting Prime's own metal. Optimus associated that sound with 'time to party'.

Lowering his head, the big warrior flexed his muscle cables. Let them come.

_**Not too far away in the desert...**_

"I still say we could have used a bit more _stealth_..." Ironhide grumbled over the noise made by his and Ultra Magnus' tyres on the sandy road as they both approached Optimus Prime's position. Their engines were roaring, covering the distances easily at twice the speed their human counterparts could.

"No matter how we approach him, we can't surprise him. Especially out in the open. He's too good."

"Rrr. Yeah but it's not as much fun," Ironhide grumbled in response. What good was hunting if you fronted up to your prey without a fight? "Slag, we're missing a good opportunity here."

Magnus revved his engine even higher with displeasure, causing his chassis to tremble, "Remember that promise you made to Elita?"

"Yeah."

"Stick with it."

"Whatever."

The blue and white semi took that as a 'yes'. "And don't forget, we need to hit Optimus before he transforms, otherwise there is no part of his truck mode that reveals parts of his protoform."

"Yeah."

The pair began to slow down from their high speeds once Optimus was within clear optic range. Both mech's noticed Prime's signature heavy rifle prominently on display in his right hand. Ultra Magnus sent a quick thanks to Primus when they weren't fired upon before they even had time to transform. The two mech's spaced themselves out, one either side of their much-loved Commander.

Optimus' optics darted from one of them to the other before settling on a brooding glare at a spot on the ground between them. Magnus and Ironhide had taken up standard confrontational stances with him. He wasn't going to acknowledge them with words.

Ironhide stood grinning, his cannon's whirring on his arms. If Optimus was going to display his hardware, so was he. Ironhide wasn't the only weapon whore in the Autobot army. Ultra Magnus hadn't summoned his own weapon from subspace hence his large body was free of firepower. Clearly he was trying to avoid a situation where he was forced to shoot his boss and best friend. Both Autobots faced off with their off-kilter Commander, well away of the way Optimus was broadening his shoulders and flexing his hands in a mech display of 'back off'.

"Optimus, we need you to come back to the base with us. Immediately. I know you're upset about that slagger Jetfire, but we can work through this."

Ironhide glanced at Ultra Magnus, or more specifically, his aft. Had someone ever had the courage to engrave 'nancy pancy diplomat' on his rear end?

The huge red and blue flamed mech didn't respond. His angular faceplates and hard mouthplates betrayed no expression other than a brooding glare. Jaw set. Optics hooded. Ironhide was struck by how hauntingly evil and terrifying their good-sparked and gentle Commander could look when he chose to. No wonder the Big Bot was related to that slagger Megatron. Two sides of the same coin.

Ironhide shunted air out of his intakes, wanting to move things along. All he needed was confirmation that Optimus wasn't going to come back willingly, then... dart time. "I can drag you back by your ankle struts if it'll make you feel better. You'll still have your pride. Sort of."

Ultra Magnus winced, sending Ironhide an angry com message – _Thanks Ironhide, that really helps! – _

Before either of the Autobots could enter into a real slanging match, Optimus Prime simply turned on one armored long leg – and began walking away, his hefty weight making great thumps in the sand.

Ironhide and Magnus sprang to life. Twin electronic 'whooshes' betrayed the fact they'd summoned their weapons from subspace. The dart guns had arrived. Each mech took swift aim at Prime's departing perfectly-shaped rear end, and fired.

Eons of experience told Optimus Prime to duck and roll; he knew exactly what those 'whooshes' meant. Weapons. Aimed at him – always him. His shoulder hit the ground hard, and he swept his rifle up in front of himself as he rolled back onto his feet, pointing it at his two most loyal soldiers.

Ironhide cursed loudly at his ducking Leader as the darts tore past him without effect. They'd lost their opportunity. Now that Optimus knew they had darts... life was about to suck that much harder. They shouldn't have tried to talk to him, shooting him from a distance without warning would've been a better plan! Slag Magnus' diplomacy!

The look of outrage and disbelief in Prime's optics made Ultra Magnus cringe. Ironhide barked a laugh. This was going to be so much more fun than shooting turbofoxes back home!

"Now come along nicely Prime, and we won't have to stick something pointy and not nice in your metal mech hide," Ironhide drawled, keeping his dart shooter level with Prime's impressive chest, "your femmes want you back."

"Please don't make us do this, Prime," Magnus said firmly. His resolve may have been faltering, but his hand wasn't. His aim was solid and all business.

Optimus growled from deep within his thick chest. His facemask swept from either side of his face to meet across his noseplates with a thunk.

Ironhide hissed, while Magnus groaned with dismay. They both knew what the mask meant. Prime was going to get serious and take them on. This was going to be some workout. No one in the universe took on Optimus lightly. Their decision to not send any of the younger, less-accomplished bots after their AWOL Commander was now justified. Ironhide and Ultra Magnus had the most experience with Optimus, they knew his moves and reactions, and both of them were brilliant soldiers themselves. They had the best chance of not getting shot. Or losing their heads. They were aware of Prime's habit of ripping off the heads of his most hated opponents when he became really fired up.

Ironhide internally commed Ultra Magnus, _He won't shoot us. He won't be able to do it._

Magnus sent him a quick glare, _You think?_

Prime's rifle fired a warning pulse shot at Ironhide's wide feet. The Weapons Specialist swore and jumped backwards, "You shot at me?!"

Optimus didn't look all that upset. His face was grim. Quickly reconsidering his options, he growled. Peppering the ground directly in front of the other two bots with rapidfire rifle pulses so that they turned away from him to cover themselves, he whirled on his feet to give himself space, beginning to transform.

"HIT HIM!" Ironhide roared.

Multiple darts flew at the transforming Commander but luck wasn't with Magnus and Ironhide – every one either missed or was deflected by Prime's hard-aft armor. The mech was getting away.

Ironhide swore his way through his own transformation, revving his engine to its limit to chase after their departing Leader. While Optimus had a high top speed, he couldn't reach it very quickly, his alt form wasn't designed for quick acceleration. He had power, brute force, and kudos with the femmes – but he wasn't the quickest mech off the starting block.

Ultra Magnus was in a similar predicament. His alt form was also a semi truck; he'd scanned a more advanced model than Prime's, a model nowhere near as 'flashy' but more modern. The situation was now down to Ironhide to cut-off Optimus and bring him down.

The red and blue flamed truck was accelerating like he had an eager femme waiting on a berth for him. So was the black Topkick. It was a jaw-dropping sight to see two such awesome and mighty machines pounding the sand road. The sound of their engines would be enough to make most bots cringe and cover their sensitive audios. Ironhide kept his sensors stuck on Prime's movements. He didn't dare participate in a sideways 'slamming' contest with the huge mech. Prime's monstrous truck would slam him much harder than he could take, and while he liked to think of himself as a tough hard-aft, he wasn't going to take on Prime that way.

Just before Optimus Prime's speed began to outstrip that of Ironhide, the bulky black warrior decided to pull a rare feat out of his arsenal. Elita would be proud of him. This was going to hurt his old chassis much more than Prime's...

With a ferocious roar and incredible skill, Ironhide transformed while driving alongside Optimus, using the last of his dying momentum to throw himself on top of his crazed Commander. Arms held wide and his face grimacing, his body slammed onto the no doubt surprised semi. Chromia was going to be counting his dents and scrapes tonight...

Optimus swerved wildly, at first to regain control, then to try and buck off his unwanted passenger. Ironhide hung on, lying facedown and using his arms and thighs to stay stretched out along Prime's length like a lover that wouldn't quit.

"You asked for it!" Ironhide growled menacingly on top of Optimus' cab, pounding one fist on the hard roof.

The black mech slammed one thick stubborn leg down into the ground alongside them. Optimus Prime's alt mode had no choice but to rear tail first up into the air then begin a series of flips and rolls with Ironhide hanging on with a grip that Optimus could not break. It was a wild ride that had to hurt. The desert floor was soft enough to cushion some of the blows. Ultra Magnus cursed and did some of his own deft manoeuvring to stay out of their way.

The wrestling pair finally came to rest in a huge billowing haze of sand and dust, having gouged great chunks out of the desert floor. Ironhide was on his back with the huge mass of Optimus Prime's truck mode upside down on top of him, the trucks great wheels facing the sky. The metal of the great truck that was Prime's alt form creaked and groaned in its unnatural position.

"Will you listen to us now?" Ironhide demanded, his armor hot and smoking. "We want to terminate Jetfire's aft too, but not with you like this! And think about what you're doing to Elita!"

The truck shuddered. It started to transform.

Ironhide relaxed his grip and allowed it to happen. He thought they might have finally gotten through to Prime's off-centre processor – until the angry mech stood up to his full height and raised his arm to point his rifle at Hide's head to issue a threat. At least Ironhide assumed it was a threat; he was pretty sure the dumb aft wouldn't honestly shoot him. With a snarl, Ironhide punched the rifle away from him. It was time for a Prime smacking.

Ultra Magnus stood waiting resignedly with his own rifle while the powered up pair wrestled around on the desert floor; throwing punches, grappling torsos, landing kicks, yelling, and generally being a pair of very powerful sparklings with issues.

As damn good as Ironhide was, he couldn't match Prime's massive strength and experience mixed with natural talent. He found himself on his back with Optimus sitting hard on his chest, his bulging thighs spread either side of Ironhide's shoulders – and no way out. However, Ironhide knew one dirty trick to get the mech off, but it wasn't something he was going to do to Optimus. Yanking off a mech's crotch armor and slamming a punch into what the armor had revealed usually produced instant gratifying results – and Elita One would kill him. As would the rest of the femme population that valued Prime's 'assets'...

There was one thing Prime's busy CPU had forgotten. Ultra Magnus.

The tell-tale whoosh and thunk of a beautifully aimed and shot dart finally registered with the over-wrought Autobot Leader, as did the sharp sting in his protoform. He'd been hit just under his armpit. His head jerked down to look at the side of his chest, his optics flickered as the potent sedative began to take effect. The powerful mech's fingers grabbed onto the projectile and ripped it out. He held it in front of his face, staring at it with disbelief. The sharp end of it was dripping with his own fluids.

"Heh. Gotcha," Ironhide lifted his head and grinned up at his friend and Leader. "Do you give up now?"

Shaking his head like an mad dog, Optimus Prime staggered to his feet, dropping the dart. He was unsteady and spasmodic, with his arms held straight out to the side in an attempt to balance his over-sized body. His head swung around to stare at Ultra Magnus. Blue optics narrowed. An angry growl emitted from his throat. He almost over-balanced and fell on his aft until one of his big feet stuck out behind him to stop himself. Magnus started to back away when Optimus began heading in his direction.

"Er... shouldn't he go down _quicker_ than this?" Ultra Magnus said with concern.

Optimus kept coming.

"Much quicker?" Magnus mostly squeaked.

Their Commander was un-coordinated but very determined with stalking Magnus. Fortunately, the big mech could only muster up a very slow walking pace – one unsteady foot in front of the other - putting Magnus in no danger of being threatened. It wasn't very dignified to have their illustrious and noble Leader staggering around as if he'd been getting stuck into some moonshine high grade, and the bots were sure Ratchet had said Optimus would go down quickly and quietly. Magnus didn't think wobbling around while glaring death like he was going to rip a bots arms and legs off was quick or quiet.

With Optimus intent on going after poor Magnus, Ironhide slowly started to get his aching, run-over-by-a-semi self upright; then he yelped at feeling a sharp prick in the palm of his hand on the ground. Yanking his hand up, Ironhide stared at the sedative dart stuck between his thick fingers. Crap. It struck him that he was a goner.

"What the pit...!"

Ultra Magnus' stunned optics met his around the comical figure of Optimus Prime. "Ironhide?!"

The befuddled black mech didn't get to say much else. He toppled over onto his side with an Earth shaking THUMP and stayed there. Permanently. Ratchet may have gotten the dose wrong with regards to the much bigger Optimus, but it was _more_ than enough to take care of Ironhide's solid aft. The black mech had managed to stab himself on one of the darts Magnus had used earlier. It had been sticking out of the ground at an angle, fully loaded and ripe for pricking Ironhide's hand.

Realising he was now alone, Magnus considered using another dart on his friend. He wasn't sure if that was a wise choice, since he didn't know what an overdose would do to Optimus' complex systems. He didn't want to damage the big flame patterned mech. Damage meant serious trouble with Prime's femme. And Ratchet.

Then it hit him. He looked down at the rifle in his hand; which was resolutely pointed at Optimus; and cursed himself. Viciously. Why had he ever thought it would be a good idea to treat Prime like this? It wasn't right. Sure, Big Bot currently had one heck of an attitude problem caused by what had happened to his dear sparkmate, but the answer wasn't going to be found in shooting a drugged-up, unarmed mech whose only concern was to protect his femme, and uh, _kill_ Jetfire.

Ultra Magnus kept carefully backing away from his struggling Commander. Loaded with sedative or not, Optimus Prime was more than enough mech for him to handle. Magnus had never relished hand-to-hand fighting. He was good at it, but he preferred to avoid it. He knew what Optimus was capable of doing when he felt like it, like, damn, anyone who looked at Prime's over-built body had to know it too. And anyway, he had to collapse soon, surely?

Magnus' sensors picked up the approach of another vehicle. For a moment he cursed, thinking it was a civilian. Then his systems registered the signal of an Autobot. Surprised, the mech looked off to the right towards the approaching sports car. His programming knew a femme when it saw one. Elita?

Optimus chose his moment to strike. His right hand gripped another sedative dart that he'd scooped up off the ground with large clumsy fingers, and by mustering up every last bit of concentration he had, he threw it. Straight at Magnus.

"OWW! What?!"

Ultra Magnus slapped a hand to his shoulder joint. A dart?! He yanked it out while staring at a smirking Optimus Prime, "What did you do that for?!"

"You... shot... me... return... favour..." Optimus ground out. He lost his footing and crashed down onto one knee. He shook his head back and forth. "Ugh."

"Yeah, but I'm not the one on a revenge kick!" Magnus swayed on his feet, feeling the drug swamp his systems. He had errors and failures scrolling across his HUD at an astonishing rate. Dropping his rifle he held his hands up in front of his face. They were shaking. "Slag it... this messes things up..."

Elita One's sleek Mazda sports car form compressed her suspension and slid to a halt. She'd gotten worried about what was happening to her bonded, her CPU feeding her all the horrible scenarios he might be caught up in, or whatever Ironhide and Magnus were doing to him. With the sparklink connecting her to Optimus having been cut off, not knowing what her strong but aft-headed mech was doing had been driving her insane. She had to come.

...and thank Primus she had, considering the three warrior mech's sprawled out on the ground in front of her. Ironhide was on his side, motionless and still. Ultra Magnus was on his hands and knees, trembling, unable to speak. And Optimus... Optimus was lying casually on his back, optics off, with a stupid slag-eating grin on his face – covered in dents and scratches, he looked like someone had just given him the best interface session of his life.

Sighing, Elita One covered her face with her hands, rubbing at her forehead while sending Ratchet a comlink message. "Ratch, I need a trailer out here. No, not just Optimus, the others too. All three of them. Yup. A BIG trailer then. No, Optimus won't give us any trouble," Elita kneeled down next to her supine partner, placing a hand on his broad chest, "if he does I'll weld his crotch plates shut for the next year." Shutting the comlink off, the femme peered closely at her mate's face. He was really out to it. The sedative had worked. "You know I think for pulling off this little stunt, I'll weld your plates anyway, hmm? Silly mech."


	27. Chapter 27

**Scent of the Future**

Authors Note: I'm so sorry this is ages late! Poor _optimus prime 007_ has been crying out for Safire and Sabre antics and I haven't been able to deliver. Hope this chappie makes up for all that!

**Chapter 27**

"It's okay guys, Optimus is under control now. The other mech's dragged his sorry aft here so you can kick it, okay?"

Elita One explained the situation to her two sparklings. Sabre was walking just behind his mother with one of his small hands behind her knee. He was looking wary but trying to act brave and in control, while his sister Safire sat on one of her mother's arms and leaned against her chest, sniffling and rubbing at her noseplates while looking at the huge form of her sire laid out on one of Ratchet's medbay berths. Safire didn't like it. The feelings her sire had sent to her had _hurt_. She didn't want to go through that again.

Ultra Magnus was seated on a medbay berth the next one over from his Commander, leaning forwards and supporting his weight on his hands beside his thighs. Every time he tried to stand up he lost his balance. In a mech the size of Jazz, that wasn't too bad – in a mech _his_ size that was trouble, he could easily squash and severely injure any other bot he fell upon. He wouldn't be able to do anything until the sedative he'd been shot with by the vengeful Optimus wore off completely. At least he was doing better than Ironhide, his fellow Optimus retriever; the black mech was currently lying on his side and being very miserable while he retched and purged the contents of his tank up into a bucket held by his not-so-impressed sparkmate, Chromia. The sedative was having an adverse affect on his systems.

All of the sorry collection of Autobot mech's had been brought into the base unconscious on the back of trailers. The humans would have laughed their butts off if they had seen it, in their absence the Autobot femmes had given themselves that task, snickering and chuckling at the most bad aft mech's in their army brought to heel by dart guns and limply laid out like recharging sparklings. Ironhide had even been drooling energon from a burst line... Chromia had wrinkled her noseplates and rolled her optics, helping to drag his heavy aft inside.

"What do you think he'll do when he wakes up, Ratchet?" Elita enquired of the CMO, running her optics over her sparkmate's quiet yet still intimidating frame.

"It's fifty-fifty. He'll either continue on his revenge rampage... or the re-boot of his systems I just gave him will bring him back to normal." Ratchet gave her a stern look. "I'd hold off on threatening him with violence or tearing him a new aft until later, Lita. Lecturing him for his antics will have to suffice for the moment. He should be waking up any moment now."

Safire perked up at seeing Ratchet, one of her favourite mech's. She smiled shyly at him and blinked her optics. Ratchet looked at her, pausing in his work. How anything so impossibly cute, innocent, tiny and _female_ had ever been sparked by his giant aft of a Leader was beyond him. He gave the little femme sparkling a small smile. She half hid her face in Elita's neck but kept smiling at him.

Sabre squeaked and held his arms up to his mother. He couldn't see his sire from down on the floor. "Bee! Lita!"

"Hold on Sabby, Ratchet would you mind, er..." Elita held Safire out to Ratchet, gesturing with her head for him to hold her.

The CMO only hesitated for a fraction of a moment before accepting the femme sparkling into his arms. Safire cooed up at him and patted his chest. Elita hefted her and Prime's son up onto the bench Optimus was lying upon, letting him stand there. Sabre surveyed Optimus Prime's silent body. Reaching out, he tapped one small hand against his chestplates.

Nothing happened.

Sabre tried again, this time tapping harder, getting rattling sounds out of Prime's armor. No response. He looked up at his Mom.

"It's okay Sabby, he'll come back to us soon. There's nowhere he can go to escape from me, not with what he's got coming to him."

"You tell him, Lita," Chromia smirked from the other side of the room, patting Ironhide's shoulder as the black mech coughed into the bucket she was holding.

Ultra Magnus rolled his optics at the display of dominance by the femmes, staying on his bench. This was why he hadn't chosen a sparkmate yet, too much trouble to deal with. The Decepticons were bad enough. And he didn't like the idea of being dominated by a demanding femme. He liked his peace.

All optics went straight to Optimus Prime when the mech groaned and twitched. Ratchet immediately handed Safire over to her mother and snatched up a needle loaded with sedative, he had to be ready to re-sedate the lugnut if he showed signs of going crazy again.

"Optimus?" Ratchet enquired, his optics on the Autobot Commander's faceplates. "You're in the medbay. Can you hear me?"

Brilliant blue light lit up Prime's optical sensors then died down. His faceplates moved as he tried to say something but nothing came out. The back of his helmet armor scraped on the table when his head moved.

"What was that? Please tell me if you're going to be an idiot again so I can stab you with this," Ratchet waved the needle around.

"You should've been a femme, Ratchet," Elita said admiringly.

"Shush, you. Optimus?" Ratchet asked again.

The faintest murmur came from Prime, "... sorry... I'm sorry..."

"So you should be," Ratchet nodded, satisfied, relaxing his tense hydraulics. "The next time you feel like ripping someone's head off go and see Ironhide, you can blow up his target range."

An annoyed grunt came from Ironhide. "Heard that... ugh... range is _mine_."

Chromia smacked him in the back of the head. "Quiet. Keep chucking."

Elita held back from saying anything to her mate when Sabre rested his hands on his sire's midsection and peered up at Optimus. "Opmus?"

Large optics looked downwards. "Sabby..."

"Opmus!" Sabre squealed happily, patting him. Then he nodded to himself, turned around, walked precariously down to where Optimus Prime's feet were – and kicked him solidly in the ankles.

Prime jerked, wincing. "Oww."

His sparkmate leaned over him, staring him lovingly in the optics. Optimus expected her to say some suitably loving words. He didn't get any.

"That was from me too, sweetspark," Elita spoke, her optics like steel, "don't ever pull a stunt like that again or I'll get your processor reformatted and your interface taken offline."

He looked up at her. His whole body appeared to cringe down onto the berth. "Oh."

Safire had watched what her brother did. He had the right idea. She held her arms out towards her sire beseechingly, her fingers grabby, wanting to get down.

"You want to say hello, sweetie? Alright, down you get," Elita plopped her daughter solidly onto the arch of Prime's chest between his chestplates, making the mech wince.

Safire sat still for a moment, sitting on her aft and holding her hands together in front of her while eyeing off the large head of her sire looking back at her.

Then she used the best form of female offence she could use. She burst into tears.

"Oh no... Safire..." Optimus said hoarsely, his voice still not up to full power. He awkwardly lifted his dead feeling arms up off the table and embraced her. "I'm sorry, I was wrong. I won't do it again," he murmured, disturbed and regretful at his daughter's actions. The tiny femme kept leaking tears, rubbing at her optics. "I'm a stupid mech."

"Yes, you are." Elita confirmed, hands on her hips. Sabre mimicked her, placing his own undersized fists on his hips too.

Ratchet cranked up the head end of the med table so Optimus could sit up more comfortably and cradle his sobbing daughter. He held her close and tried to shush her, rocking her small body against his chest armor. She batted his hand away when he tried to wipe at her wet face with his thumb, adamant not to let him touch her. She was upset with him. Optimus felt like his spark would break.

Sabre held his arms out to Elita, wanting to get down. She set him down on the floor and watched him run over to where Ultra Magnus was sitting on his berth and recovering. He stood at the feet of the huge mech who looked so much like his sire and lifted his arms up.

"You want to get up here?" Magnus asked, puzzled. He pointed at his broad chest, "With me?"

Sabre nodded, bouncing on his feet. He wanted up. Now.

"Uh, okay," Magnus shrugged, wondering why the sparkling would want to be with him. He lifted up Prime's sparkling son and looked shocked when he immediately climbed into his lap, turned around and sat his aft down with his hands on the big mech's thighs, holding his head up proudly and claiming Ultra Magnus as his own.

"Lita! Opmus!" he said triumphantly.

"I think that is the best punishment you could get," Elita said softly, appraising the actions of both her sparklings as Prime looked backwards and forwards between his crying sparkling femme and his older son. "Sabre has found a new mech caretaker instead of you and Safire doesn't like you any more."

The Femme Commander had to swallow hard and brace herself at the wave of guilt, sorrow and grief that hit her from Prime's end of the sparklink. His great shoulders slumped, hunching. Sighing, she put a gentle hand on his shoulder. Optimus bowed his head, clutching his tiny distressed sparkling up under his chin and stroking her with the tips of his fingers.

"I'm... I am sorry. To all of you. I should never have given in to my primitive programming. I regret my actions severely." His optics looked blearily around at them all. "If you can, please forgive me, I will accept it if you can't."

The silence of the medbay was broken only by Safire's hiccups – and Ironhide breaking the moment by making another huge retch into his bucket.

"Hey, Elita, I think we should give him another chance," Chromia spoke solemnly, meeting her friend's optics over Ironhide's bent back.

Elita didn't look at any of them, instead staring at the floor with an absorbed expression. Her optics lifted up to find him staring at her warily. He wasn't sure what she would do. The way the overhead lights glinted off her sharp red armor made her appear very unforgiving.

"Promise not to react that way to my words ever again?" Elita said quietly.

Optimus nodded. "Yes. I do. Promise. No more stupid mech rampages. Perhaps Ratchet may kindly help me by setting up some counselling sessions so I may learn to deal with my anger."

Safire hiccuped the last of her tears away, shoving one small hand into her mouth, looking up at her two parents with wet blinking optics. She saw Sabre sitting in the lap of another mech, the really big one. She knew he was over there to try and protect himself from the horrible feelings coming from her Big Bot. Well, when Sabre was extremely naughty, he got a light smack to his aft plates, so maybe she could do the same to her Big Bot? To stop him sending her horrible feelings?

She clicked hesitantly at Optimus to get his attention and put her hand on his chin. He looked down at her eager small face and smiled.

"Saffy, I'm very sorry little one, I should never have-"

::SMACK::

Optimus jerked his head back at the sharp tap to his noseplates by Safire's fisted hand. "Safire!"

The sparkling femme smiled coyly up at him and chewed on her finger. Take that.

"...and now your punishment is complete." Elita said smugly. "I don't approve of my sparklings using physical force against you, but this one time, I'll let it slide."

Having watched the interaction between Elita, Prime, and their sparklings, Chromia sighed and looked down at her sickly sparkmate. Ironhide was now lying on his back with one arm thrown over his faceplates, one knee drawn up over his hip. Hoping that was the last of his purging. The warrior femme surveyed him intimately, taking in his thick strong body, clean lines, heavy hydraulics, wide shoulders... yup, he'd make a nice sire. She noticed one of his optics peeking up at her curiously from under his forearm. His body shifted uneasily under her scrutiny.

"What are you looking at, femme?" he rumbled.

"Just wondering if you're fit enough yet to sire a sparkling for me," Chromia said bluntly with a smirk.

Ironhide had thought his tank was empty, but he managed to throw up a few more times after that shock to his CPU.


	28. Chapter 28

**Scent of the Future**

Authors note: Some reviewers felt I was too harsh on Optimus in the last chapter, so I hope this chapter makes up for that! Warning: snuggles ahead.

**Chapter 28**

Elita One watched Chromia hustle Ironhide out the medbay. Ratchet had grudgingly consented to the black mech being taken to his quarters to recover, with the proviso that he would come back for a check up after getting some recharge. The Femme Commander smiled to herself. She doubted that her best femme friend would be allowing Ironhide to merely do such a thing as 'recharge'.

Her optics wandered over to Ultra Magnus while Ratchet gave her sparkmate some of his attention. Magnus had carefully set Sabre down on his aft on the bench while he attempted to stand upright without wobbling, setting himself up and then slowly letting go of the bench, his expression dominated by his incredible concentration. Sabre was giggling at the mech testing his balance, finding it hilarious that an 'adult' was having such trouble just standing. Did he need walking lessons too? His sire was good at that. Elita noted the satisfied look on Magnus' faceplates at finding he was successful. Sabre clapped.

The femme's gaze went back to her own mate. Optimus and Magnus were such good mechs. As was Ironhide. Gracious, gentle, caring, willing to sacrifice themselves for the good of others. They all had such incredible abilities and outright power, but they never used them for anything else other than helping. She noted the tiny clutching hands of her femme sparkling; Safire; holding on tight to Prime's chestplates, tears drying on her cheeks. She had calmed down from her crying fit, and was content to sit quietly with her big bot. Just holding on. He was sending her good feelings now over the link between them. Optimus had one gentle big hand around her back, keeping her comfortable.

…now she felt guilty.

Optimus had been intent on finding and terminating Jetfire purely to protect her, and their sparklings, and she had roused on him without a kind word ever passing her mouthplates. It was amazing that he hadn't told her where to shove it. Not that he ever would, but still... he had the right to.

"Ultra Magnus."

The mech looked up, "Yes?"

"Would you mind doing me favor and looking after Sabre for a little while? Ask Bumblebee or Jazz for help if you need it. There are a few things Optimus and I need to discuss."

"Uh," Magnus looked down at his little mechling friend. Sabre blinked at him and twittered. "Sure 'Lita... if you think that's alright."

"I do, thank you." Elita smiled. "Sabby, go with Magnus, I'll come and get you shortly."

Sabre made Ultra Magnus stop on his way past Optimus so he could pat him. His sire looked up at the small touch and thanked him, his optics brightening at his son as he waved 'bye-bye' over Magnus' broad retreating shoulder. He'd heard Elita telling Magnus to look after him, but he hadn't wanted to comment in case he got in trouble again.

"How is he, Ratchet?" Elita asked, moving to stand next to her bonded mate and placing a soothing hand on his forearm.

"Eh. In one piece and functioning within normal parameters," the medic grouched, going over the results of his scans. Especially the head scan. He'd like to say he'd found 'nothing there', but that was an old joke and he didn't think anyone could take jokes at the moment. "If he can stand up without falling over like Ultra Magnus, and he doesn't bolt for the door screaming about killing you-know-who, he's clear to leave."

"Ah." Elita nodded, letting her optics survey the assortment of dirt and scratches covering her mate's legendary frame. Apart from other things, he desperately needed a wash and wax. She never liked seeing her mech anything less than shiny and flawless.

Optimus Prime shifted under her gaze, only allowing himself to look up at her briefly, his great head keeping itself tilted downwards away from her so his optics were shadowed. Safire stared up at him curiously. She could feel a few tendrils of unease and sadness coming over her sire's link. Clicking softly, she reached up a hand and patted at his chin. His optics latched onto her. One optic ridge lifted up.

"Are you going to smack me again, little one?" he murmured, giving her a gentle smile. A smile that turned into a beam when Safire sighed, laid her head down on his chest and began purring while stroking at his armor.

"I think... she forgives you." Elita paused. "And so do I."

"What?" Optimus looked up at her with surprise, optics wide.

"Oh, no, no. No – wait. Ratchet, can you take Safire for us and give us some privacy? Please?" Elita lifted a protesting and squeaking Safire from her sire's chest and held her out to Ratchet. "Go with Ratch, sweetie, just for a little bit. We won't go anywhere." Safire dangled from Elita's hands over Prime's body. She hunched up her short legs and blinked at Ratchet, waiting to be taken. "Please Ratchet?"

"I'm not a sparkling sitter," with a resigned grunt, the old medic removed Safire from Elita's hands. "Don't take too long," he groused over his shoulder, walking out the medbay doors with Safire snuggled into his side.

With the doors shut and locked, Optimus looked warily at his mate. Elita winced. Just the expression he was giving her made her spark ache. He should never have to look at her like he was waiting to be yelled at. She knew she had a temper, and that sometimes she came across as far too cold and unforgiving, but the look she was getting told her she needed to work much harder on reining herself in.

"Wait a second," Optimus asked, carefully sitting up with a groan, his armor creaking. When the room didn't spin and his tank didn't want to eject, he surmised he'd escaped any of the horrible after-effects that had plagued Ironhide and Ultra Magnus. No, wait, his head hurt. Well, a headache wasn't too bad, and that could've come from Ironhide crash-tackling him at over sixty miles per hour, in any case. Sighing, he gingerly levered his legs over the side of the medbench into a sitting position with his feet touching the floor.

"Stop there." Elita's hand settled onto the lower half of his chest, halting him. "Don't rush yourself, take it easy."

Straightening his arms, Optimus put his hands on either side of his thighs on the bench and looked at her. She still hadn't removed her hand. Her optics were looking at it, a frown on her faceplates. He was more than a little shocked when she bent forwards and rested her head against him next to her hand. Smoothly, he lifted an arm and slipped it around her slim shoulders, waiting for her. The size and bulk of his metal against hers made her seem very small. Her closeness with her standing between his spread thighs made his spark tingle.

"I'm sorry."

Her soft murmur lightened his spark. "For what, may I ask? What Jetfire did?"

"...don't talk about him..."

Optimus frowned, but refrained from debating the topic. "Alright." He let his fingers make small strokes over the back of her neck plating. She still wasn't moving. Her head stayed against his body, muffling her voice.

"You're dirty."

"Then you'll have to wash me," Prime replied lightly. He figured she was working her way up to saying something that was hard for her to express. He'd give her the time she needed. Always.

"I will." A feminine snort. "... a wax, too."

Optimus clutched his hand to her shoulder in surprise, clicking his optic shutters several times. "Now that _would_ be nice. I'll hold you to it."

With a shove of her hands against his waist, Elita lifted her head from his chest and pushed herself upright. Her next words came out in a rush as she met his optics with her own. "I'm sorry for not thanking you for doing your best to protect me. You went after Jetfire out of your feelings for me, and I shouldn't have punished you for it." She stopped and looked down at her hands clasped in front of her hips. "...I had no right to..."

"Oh Elita..." Optimus pulled her gently back into his embrace, moulding her to the front of his body, his head bending over the top of hers. He pressed his thighs closed against her, hugging her all over. "I know I upset you and our sparklings with what I did. That is the part that I sincerely regret." He brushed his mouthplates over her head as she threaded her arms around his waist and pressed harder into him. "You know that anything that threatens you, threatens me. I'm here for you, and I am _angry_ beyond reason that you were attacked and I wasn't there to protect you."

Elita relaxed against him, her fingers traced the edges of his shoulder armor. "You can't be everywhere."

"True, but I am Optimus Prime. I try to be," he said wryly, poking fun at himself, "I hear I'm supposed to have super powers."

She snorted, "Silly slagger."

His optics blazed at her as he released his hands from her body to cradle her face, "You know how much I love you, yes?"

The sparklink they shared was fully open. She could feel him sending her everything he felt without dampening it. "Yes," she whispered. "And I you."

"Good. If I go a little crazy when someone tries to hurt you – and succeeds – you must accept it." His tone was gentle but solid. He was speaking from his spark. His thumb swept over her cheek as he studied her. "There is nothing in the universe that can stop me from feeling like that and reacting to it." He leaned forward to nudge his noseplates tenderly against her smaller ones. "And I'm glad you have finally recognised that."

Elita practically glowed at the way her spark was throbbing in reaction to him. He didn't often allow their sparklink to be fully active and sensual outside of their private quarters. It was exhilarating. She reached out to get under his armor, wanting his spark -

"Have you two finished yet?"

The medbay doors weren't even fully retracted open before Ratchet was shouldering his way inside, Safire held against his shoulder.

"Bad timing, Ratchet," Optimus growled around the smile he was giving his mate.

"No, good timing," Ratchet retorted, striding in, "no mating on my medbay bench, you fraggers."

Safire flicked her gaze from parent-to-parent with one hand inserted into her mouth. Her little brow furrowed. What were her sire and mother unit doing?

"Have I ever told you about your official title as Autobot Killjoy, Ratchet?" Optimus asked, getting to his feet with Elita's assistance.

"More than once. Get outta here, both of you." Ratchet waved a hand at them, handing over Safire to her mother. "If Ironhide can use his quarters for such business, so can you. Out."

"You heard that?" Elita asked, cuddling a cooing Safire to her chestplates. She didn't know Ratchet had heard Chromia's comment about a sparkling.

"I hear everything. You have five seconds to remove yourselves from my territory before I start throwing syringes." Ratchet picked up a wrench. "Oh, and Optimus?"

"Yes?" The Commander asked warily.

"If you ever ask me to set up counselling sessions for you again, I'll insert _this,_" the CMO held up his wrench,_ "_where even Safire's cute little hand won't fit in to reach it. Got it?"

Elita started to get her hackles up, "Why you-"

"Later, 'Lita. Let's move."

Optimus hustled her out of there. He didn't want either of his girls to be corrupted any further by his glitch of a CMO. He would pray to Primus later that First Aid or any of his other medics back on Cybertron would arrive on Earth and give him some peace from Ratchet-the-Hatchet.

Ratchet smiled when he heard Prime say in a cheerful voice on his way down the hall, "Wash and wax, femme. Wash and wax."

With Elita grumbling a short reply of "You're not going to forget that, are you?"

Nothing was better than their Leader and his femme in a sweet mood.


	29. Chapter 29

**Scent of the Future**

Authors note: I'm getting close to finishing this thing shortly, and then I'll go to work on 'Birds and Bumblebees'. All that is yet to be revealed here is a special something pertaining to Jazz, and later, what Jetfire did to Elita (next chapter, I think). I hope you guys are enjoying this. :-) As requested by _optimus prime 007_ and some other reviewers, there will be another special edition chapter where Elita gives Optimus his 'wash & wax'. Elita will forget all about 'washing' when confronted by her mech's wet body, believe me... ::wink:: This is a MASSIVE chapter, which is fitting, considering what the surprise for Jazz and Prowl is! Enjoy.

**Chapter 29**

For one of the very few times in his tremendously long life, Optimus Prime felt like either ignoring the frantic banging on the door of his and Elita's quarters, or using his rifle to shoot whoever it was through the door plating, an action he would never act upon but it made feel better at the thought of it. He was currently very comfortable, thank-you-very-much. He'd just been washed (sort of), and waxed (not really) - Elita had missed out the bottom half of his body when her admiration of his fine physique got the better of her and she decided there were much better things to do with his giant frame other than 'wax' it - and now he was reclining upon his massive recharge berth with his very-sated and spark-merged femme lying in his arms. What the pit was he needed for that couldn't wait for a cycle or two?!

Sighing, Optimus lowered his head to press a pert kiss with his mouthplates to the head of his recharging mate, affectionately nudging her cheek with his noseplates, then began shifting her slender body gently and carefully away from being entwined with his armor. His internal comlink was also bleeping and flashing at him. Slag it. The Decepticon alert code had not been activated so he already knew whatever was going on had nothing to do with an attack. The fact that Elita hadn't been woken also meant the emergency was not about their sparklings, so really, couldn't his soldiers leave him be for just a while longer...?

"'Bout time you slaggers got up," Ironhide put his fists on his hips and grunted as Optimus drew back the door and glared at him. The black mech glanced downwards, seeing the state of Prime's body and lifting one optic ridge with a smirk, "I think you missed some bits with the wax..."

"Report or go away," Prime rumbled in a controlled tone, _Before I ask Magnus to shoot you where wax can't get to!_

"We have an incoming Class One shuttle with neutrals aboard due to arrive in one Earth hour, thought you'd like to know," Ironhide responded, experienced enough to get the important details out before continuing to needle Prime about his time with his femme. "You might want to get cuddly with Sunstreaker to get that wax job cleaned up, while Elita is good at _some_ things she obviously isn't so good at detailing."

Optimus stood still, one hand frozen on the doorframe, his expression speaking volumes for what he thought of Ironhide at the moment. Something from the Pit.

"I'll just go and get the other mech's together to make a greeting party, shall I?" Ironhide said abnormally brightly, turning and striding down the hallway, knowing his job of getting up his best friend's aft for the day was done.

The dangerous end of Elita's rifle appeared under Optimus Prime's armpit, pointed in Ironhide's direction. The femme herself was standing behind his hip, looking pissed. "Please, just once, I really think one of us ought to put a blast mark on his crotch," she said from behind him, her optics locked on the black mech as he disappeared around the corner.

Prime smiled, putting a soothing hand palm down on her head, "One of us will do just that before we offline and join the Allspark in our final moments, but until then, I need Ironhide with all of his bits intact." He pushed Elita's rifle down with one large hand, "Put that away, sweetspark."

Elita grimaced, but she obligingly subspaced her weapon. Optimus was the only mech that could issue her an order – and she only obeyed him if she felt agreeable about it. On the battlefield his word was law, off it... he had to bargain with her. She liked nothing more than having him playfully attempt to intimidate her with his height and deep voice into accepting an order, just so she could smile sweetly up at him, tuck her hands behind her back and purr, "No." She'd also learnt the Earth sayings, "As if" and, "talk to the hand" which she put to equal good use.

While Elita moved past him and out into the hallway, Optimus patted himself down, attempting to even out the dried smudged wax where their 'activities' had left impressions. Naughty impressions of Elita's neat little hands on his thighs and hips...

"I'll go and get our teeny botlings from Magnus while you... uh, try and look presentable. I'll meet you outside." Elita smiled at him over shoulder, giving him a wink.

Optimus gave a sigh that lifted up his chestplate armor. He turned back inside their quarters for a quick rubdown to smooth out the wax, muttering, "...Better get cleaned up so the neutrals don't think I'm a slob... or as randy as Ironhide."

By the time he made it outside after briefing SecDef Keller about the imminent arrival, the whole base was standing outside in the cool of the evening, waiting for the shuttle to begin its descent. He joined Elita with their sparklings. Safire was making 'phhht' noises and intently playing with Elita's shoulder armor, while Sabre was standing on Bumblebee's shoulder and looking up into the sky (with Bee's hands holding him in place).

"Magnus, you want to take Sabby back? You're taller than me," Bumblebee asked the big mech on his other side.

Ultra Magnus held his hands up in surrender, his optics flaring, "No, no, he's fine where he is... I've had him all afternoon, he's yours now."

"Aww, Sabby, what did you do to Uncle Magnus? He doesn't want you back!" Bumblebee cooed in his scratchy voice. Sabre didn't pay any attention. He'd been through arrivals before, he knew that this time there was a ship coming down as well. He'd never seen one before and he was very excited.

Prowl came quietly up to stand on the opposite side of Optimus. "They're almost through the atmosphere, ETA for landing is three-point-six-two Earth minutes. Everything is going smoothly."

Jazz made a sour expression. He'd been listening in on the conversations between Prowl and the new arrivals. From the sound of it, if the shuttle landed on the ground in one piece he'd declare he was a femme and ask the others to call him 'Daisy'. Wherever the neutrals ('neuts') had obtained that ship from, only Primus knew how they had ever made it to Earth. It was a right shocker of a ship. From what Prowl had conveyed to his mate, the neuts had a special cargo they were intent on delivering to Optimus Prime. Wouldn't say what it was, just that they were eager to land, offload their gift, repair their falling apart ship, and take off again. The neutrals weren't staying.

Optimus nodded, "Thank you, Prowl."

Ironhide had chosen to place himself between Sunstreaker and Ratchet. There was a 'disagreement' happening between the CMO and the golden Lamborghini. Neither party would elaborate. Chromia thought it was hilarious, and was giving both mechs cheeky looks. Sideswipe; caught in the middle; was trying to broker a peace deal. Not happening.

"Here it comes!" Wheeljack yelled.

Optimus Prime's optics widened. As did most of the other bots. Some began swearing to Primus.

The small shuttle was only big enough to comfortably handle no more than half a dozen bots. The 'ship' looked older than Optimus was. It was covered in mis-matching exterior plating, some parts black, others grey, a handful painted white. Laser fire marks decorated the entire ship from nose to tail... and one of the rear thrusters was trailing long plumes of white and orange smoke. As the ship got closer, the 'orange' was made out to be a thin flame.

The Autobot Commander's optic covers blinked rapidly. He looked shocked. "Primus... _WHEELJACK!!_"

"Already on it, Boss," 'Jack shouted back, stepping forward and transforming the armor on his left arm to reveal a fire suppression system. Ratchet had hinted at installing one, then suggested, then demanded, then wrestled Wheeljack onto a medbench and threatened him. So now, the explosions-prone mech was also a firefighter.

"Ratchet!"

"I'm ready for casualties," The CMO said grimly, watching. If the ship couldn't make a safe landing, he would be up to his elbow struts in casualties.

Sideswipe had scrunched up his faceplates at the ship. "'Bro, that is _hideous. _How is is staying in the air?"

Ultra Magnus moved himself up next to Optimus, making sure Elita was caught between their sheltering bodies. Ready for anything. Prime hastily thought it hadn't been a good idea to bring Elita and their sparklings outside, but then, the Neuts had not indicated they were more likely to crash than perform a safe landing.

Sabre clicked and pointed eagerly, his small hand up in the air. "Bee! BEE!"

"I see it, Sabby. Just a shame your first ship has to be, er, that awful," Bumblebee said sadly. "Oh dear." He removed Sabre from his shoulder - getting an angry round of clicks from Prime's son – and held him in one arm. He wanted to be ready to run and shield the little bot if necessary.

"That's not a ship that's a junkpile," Elita murmured, holding Safire protectively up against the hollow between the rose red armor of her neck and her shoulder, appearing wary. "Optimus?"

Her mech narrowed his optics, swiftly calculating all the most likely scenarios, "It isn't landing near us, thank Primus."

"Landing?! Crashing is more like it!" Ironhide snorted. He'd tried moving Chromia behind him like a good mech should, but she had hissed at him and punched him in the hip plate. She did not need protecting.

Despite the flames, smoke and mis-matching parts, the shuttle did in fact land without too much effort. The pilot had some idea what he was doing, because he abandoned the brakes on the sorry-looking landing wheels early once he was on the ground and dropped the stubby nose down into the sandy desert floor instead. It seemed to work. The shuttle slid, jolted and bumped into awkward immobility.

Safire didn't like all the noise and commotion. She put her fist into her mouthplates and started to cry softly into Elita's shoulder. Optimus wanted to help comfort her, but he knew that keeping control of the situation with the ship was the best thing he could do at the moment. He sent soothing love through his sibling bond with her as best he could, and his spark twisted itself up for her. Elita would have to handle it for the time being.

Wheeljack sprinted to the side of the shuttle (once he had determined that nothing was going to explode in his face) and covered the over-heated thrusters in thick foam. Ratchet stood outside of what he thought was the shuttle door, wondering whether he should rip it off or wait. The decision was made for him when it was abruptly yanked off its hinges and thrown outwards by one of the inner occupants, landing at Ratchet's armor-clad yellow feet. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker took off to cover the other side of the shuttle. The other mechs stood spread out in a semi-circle behind their Commander. If this was some sort of strange attack, they needed to spread out and keep alert.

"Hello?!"

The thick and rough burst of Cybertronian bellowed at the Autobots had some of them reaching for their rifles.

Placing a quick comforting hand on Elita's back, Optimus strode forwards and halted next to Ratchet. He upped the power of his chest-mounted headlights so the shuttle opening was bathed in light.

"I am Optimus Prime, Leader of the Autobots. Please identify yourselves and relinquish any weapons you may be carrying to my officers. We are armed and ready to protect ourselves with deadly force if you make a wrong move."

A heavily built dark green mech stood in the opening, sizing up the impressive and shiny Autobot Commander. "Well, ain't you a sight to see. Never thought I'd ever get the chance to meet you." The mech took a step out of the door and fully into the light. Two other mech's – one orange, one blue – came out behind him. All of them were thickly built with massive arms and clunky legs. "We've only got one weapon, and it doesn't really work but you can have it it you want it. I'm Spinner." He nodded at the two mechs behind him, "And this is Klaxxon and Wedge."

Standing behind Ratchet with his cannons primed and ready to rock, Ironhide made a disgusted face at the mech's statement. Only one weapon and it 'didn't really work'?! No wonder neutrals were rare. They didn't take defending themselves very seriously.

The green mech, Spinner, approached Optimus carefully. On his part, Prime stood with his arms at his sides, allowing the green mech to approach, his hands relaxed and ready to take on anything or anyone that came his way. He was relying on his heavy armor to deflect a first strike attack as he often did. At his side, Ultra Magnus was ready to throw his considerable weight into action as well, his body taut and optics sharp, his rifle attached to his thigh where he could grab it easily. These mechs claimed they were neutrals, and they did appear to be just that, but Optimus hadn't survived as long as he had and kept his Autobots safe by being anything else but prepared.

Ratchet was the first to notice that the orange mech – the smallest – was carrying something. Holding it to his chestplates.

"What in the pit..." Ratchet gasped, his chartreuse frame going stiff, unable to process what he was seeing and his first whisper light scan was telling him. "Give her to me!"

Darting forward and holding out his hands, the orange mech was more than happy to hand over his cargo. The CMO drew the little bundle to him, standing on rigid long legs and running rapid scans from his wrist analysers.

Optimus was just starting to catch on to what was happening. "Ratchet...? Is that a... sparkling?"

Ratchet ignored his Leader, intent on his subject. "Humph, you're lucky. Nothing wrong a little more energon won't fix." He looked up, scrutinising the three foreign mechs in front of him. "Who does she belong to?"

Spinner grunted, looking nervous, "Er, no one. Not us, at least. She's why we're here. Found her in the Cigil galaxy on a mining planet a couple of hundred light years from Cybertron." His optics looked up warily at the towering Optimus Prime. "We heard your message and wondered if you would be willing to take her in. Her female unit is dead. Couldn't find her male progenitor. No one else claimed her." He looked sheepishly at his ragtag crew, both of them and himself obviously built as heavy workers for manual labor. "I think you can guess that we're not really a suitable family unit for the little darling."

Optimus stared in shock at the tiny femme sparkling cuddled up in a thermal blanket in Ratchet's determined embrace. Bright blue optics – they looked like Autobot optics to his gaze - blinking up at Ratchet's looming face. "A.. sparkling? This is the cargo for me?"

Ultra Magnus relaxed upon seeing what all the fuss was about. He turned to look at Optimus, "You not only have your own sparklings, but they're being delivered to you as well?"

"Yeah..." Spinner got nervous. "Could you take her? We call her Missy, don't know what her real name was or anything. She's a pretty little thing. Quiet."

The sparkling was a bit distressed by the harsh landing the shuttle had made, and she was staring at the new mech holding her, both of her hands screwed up and held to her chest. Optics wide and flinching.

"Optimus... Primus, she's got an Autobot symbol. Look." Ratchet's finger pointed at the shoulder of the little femme. By focusing his optics, the big Leader could just make out the tiny red symbol. She was an Autobot. Only Primus knew what had happened to her progenitors. The Decepticons were a good guess. The sparkling was lucky she had missed in the probable slaughter of her parents.

Missy blinked at Ratchet's finger hovering in front of her face. Without thinking about it, she extended her hand and grasped his finger, hanging onto it comfortably and sighing.

Optimus took in the surprised expression on the CMO's face. "Looks like you've got yet another femme admirer there, Ratchet," he said quietly with a smile. The smile got even bigger when he saw Ratchet struggle to keep his composure and not snark back at Prime when he had a sparkling in his arms to take care of.

"Optimus?" Elita came up behind Prime, she had made her way over to the small group after leaving Safire with Bumblebee and Jazz. "What's this about a sparkling?"

"Oh, hey, you've got sparklings already! And femmes! Well then! All sorted! She can stay with you. Shouldn't be that much more work, eh?" Spinner said hopefully, putting a wobbly smile on his faceplates. "Right?"

The big Prime met the optics of his sparkmate while Ratchet continued to comfortably hold the orphan sparkling. "We have two sparklings - a femme and a mech. Both mine."

Optimus watched as Elita stood on the tips of her feet and peered down at the femme sparkling nestled to Ratchet's thick chest, pulling back the edge of the silver blanket so she could see her face. Prime's spark was hit by a wave of sadness and simultaneous instant love from his female sparkmate. In his slanted opinion, Elita was the perfect 'mother'. If there was a sparkling in need...

"Oh hey, that's great! You'll take her, right? Won't you?" Spinner was beginning to sound desperate, leaning forwards and clasping his hands together. The rough and beaten metal of his faceplates was tight with worry.

Standing behind Spinner, the orange mech Wedge watched the Autobots carefully. He was kinda attached to Missy. He knew they couldn't keep her, they weren't properly equipped to care for a sparkling and nor did they have a stable working environment, but all the same, he would miss the tiny femme.

Optimus stood still in thought. The Autobot Commander could only make one decision. He would never leave a sparkling to fend for itself. Never.

"We will indeed, Spinner. You made the right decision to come here, thank you. She will stay with us, we would love to take care of her," Optimus formally accepted the sparkling, bowing his head marginally in Spinners direction. His optics slid to glance behind him, looking at Ironhide and then Chromia. Making plans.... then he caught the calculating expression of deep processor thinking on the face of his Second-In-Command standing two steps behind him. Prowl had been standing there with his hands tucked behind his back, his optics dimmed, not saying a word during the exchange with the miners. Prowl was often quiet and thoughtful, but this seemed different somehow.

Optimus lifted an optic ridge when he felt the 'ping' of Prowl requesting a conversation over his private internal comlink.

::Yes, Prowl?::

Prowl's stance and expression didn't change one iota. He was giving away nothing. He was as inscrutable and solid as his black-and-white armor. ::Sir, I would like to request that the female sparkling be placed into the care of Jazz and I, if no one else objects.::

Optimus Prime's large frame stiffened with surprise. He knew Jazz wanted a sparkling - pit, didn't everyone? - but he'd always thought Prowl was dead against any such thing. What had changed? He commed Prowl back. ::Have you discussed this with your partner?::

Prowl tilted his head slightly, the only giveaway that he was communicating with someone. ::Not directly, but I have recently communicated to Jazz that I am not as negative towards the idea of having a sparkling around as I once may have been. He was happy with my decision. Of course, neither of us knew that this was going to happen...::

The Autobot Commander didn't bother to hide his smile. The words Prowl had just sent over the comlink were indirect Prowl-speak for 'Yes, I would like a sparkling'. He turned around fully to stare at Jazz. The Saboteur was helping Bumblebee to calm down an upset Safire. He was sweet talking Prime's daughter into not crying and insisting that she join him in clapping hands and making merry, getting her to giggle shyly at him and bat at his clapping hands. After a rapid blink-and-you'd-miss-it internal conversation with Elita about the new sparkling, Prime pivoted back to face the waiting Prowl.

"Prowl, if you would like to bring Jazz forth and formally make your request, I will be very happy to give you my final answer," Optimus said softly out loud, an expectant expression on his regal face.

Prowl nodded sharply, keeping his cool. He walked over to his mate, feeling the appraising optics of both Optimus and Elita on him. He had no doubt that Prime had been communicating with Elita about this possibility at the same time as he was talking to him. Optimus could be a sneaky slagger when he wanted to be.

With a firm request, Prowl did some wrangling and managed to get Jazz to leave Safire alone with Bee and Sabre, then directed his protesting partner to stand in front of Optimus Prime.

"Wha... Prowler, what are ya doing? What's going on?" Jazz insisted, his optics roving over the ragtag collection of miner mechs and Ratchet standing and holding something in his arms. "Wait-a-moment – hey, Ratch, what are ya holding, that looks like a-"

Prowl forcefully interrupted his chin-wagging curious sparkmate, raising his voice, "Optimus, I would like to request that the orphan femme sparkling be placed into the care of Jazz and I. If you see fit to place her with us, I promise upon my spark that she will receive the best care and love we can provide for her as long as she desires it for the rest of her life."

Elita One squeaked and covered her face with her hands, her optics shining with glee over the top of her fingers. Ratchet dipped his head down with a grin, busying himself with running yet another scan on the little femme he was still holding, knowing how slagging brilliant this moment was. Jazz didn't have a freaking clue what was going on. It was a rare treat that ANYONE managed to go one-up on Jazz. Ironhide bumped his fist softly into Chromia's shoulder, the warrior femme latching onto it with her own hand and squeezing it, both of them smiling. Bumblebee was struggling to keep tabs on Sabre playing at his feet while holding a not-so-happy squirming Safire in his arms. Wheeljack had the same silly grin he'd started off the whole caper with, and Sunny and Sides stood around looking alternately bored and innocently happy. Ultra Magnus sighed ruefully, shaking his head, wondering just how many more times he would be used for impromptu sparkling duty, and maybe it would help if he downloaded some databytes from Ratchet about young ones.

Jazz didn't think he'd processed Prowl's words correctly for a microsecond, and he had a confused expression on his faceplates as he was playing back his mate's little speech at high speed in his CPU to try and work out what his stiff and cordial mech mate was yakking about.

Then he finally got it.

"_WHAT?!?!" _

Prowl stayed composed at Jazz's out of control shocked shriek, waiting for Prime's answer.

"Well now..." Optimus rubbed at his chin thoughtfully, drawing the moment out, shifting his weight from one hip to the other as he thought, "as long as no other bot or bonded pair has any objections...", the other Autobots stayed mercifully silent, except for Chromia giving a choked happy laugh, and Elita snorting, "then I am extremely pleased to announce that I give you and Jazz full custody of our newest Autobot femme – Missy the sparkling."

"_WHAT?!?!" _

Prowl let loose with a rarely seen smirk and turned to face his glitching partner, lovingly placing his hands on the smaller mechs upper arms. "Come now Jazz, surely you have some other words to say other than 'what', hmm?"

"A SPARKLING?!?!"

"Yes Jazz," Prowl said with legendary patience at his hyper silver-toned lover, "you know, one of those cute little things produced by Optimus and Elita that you love to play with? Exactly like that. Look," Prowl directed Jazz to stare over at Ratchet, turning him around with his hands on his shoulders, "she's over there. All ours. Optimus said so himself."

"That is correct," Prime offered gently, "Jazz, these mechs rescued an Autobot sparkling they found in the Cigil sector. Her female unit is deceased and no male unit could be found, presumed to be also deceased. She needs a family."

Taking that as his cue, Ratchet moved closer to them both, carefully pulling back the thermal blanket covering Missy to show her to Jazz. The small silver mech took one look at Missy with wide optics and began to wobble unsteadily on his feet, leaning dangerously backwards. The visor covering his optics could not hide the flaring of his visual sensors. Prowl put one steady hand to his back strut for support, easily flexing his bicep cables to take Jazz's lighter weight.

Jazz squeaked and hastily put his trembling four-fingered hands over his mouthplates to silence himself. Missy had fallen into recharge cuddled up to Ratchet's warm chestplates. Her teeny hands were clenched into fists and held up under her chin with her mouth open. To him, she looked like a gift from Primus himself. Jazz couldn't believe this was happening.

"She's about four Earth months old, Jazz," Ratchet said quietly, for once showing no sign of sarcasm or crankiness, "she should have no trouble at all imprinting on you and Prowl. I'll give you all the help and advice you need."

Jazz finally shifted his gaze from being locked on little Missy to staring up at his handsome sparkmate.

Prowl offered him a gentle smile and an awkward shrug of his wide 'POLICE' symbol covered shoulders, the lettering 'to serve and protect' glittering under the headlights from Prime's chest. "What do you say, Jazz, would you like us to adopt her? I would like to, but the final say is yours," he asked.

Jazz shuddered, and reached out with his arms to slide them around Prowl's waist, the expression on his face beginning to breakdown as his head slowly lowered to rest upon the sleek hood on Prowl's chest. His voice was muffled by his position, "Yes... oh, yes." He looked like he was about to cry, if that were possible. Prowl hugged him back, turning his head to rest it cheek down on the top of Jazz's head armor, relaxing into the embrace, for once he was not upset at his mate for showing him affection in public. He welcomed the PDA. Although Jazz was cuddled into his chest so he did have his armored back facing the others...

When Jazz's head turned to stare at the bundle in Ratchet's arms, Prowl prised Jazz's hands off his body, standing the short mech upright by himself. "Do you want to go and say hello? Her name is Missy."

"Uh, we don't know what her real designation was, we sort of use that as her pet name," Wedge offered, "you can call her something else if you want to."

Jazz blinked at him and smiled. "Missy... yeah, Missy sounds good. I wouldn't change it."

Prowl rested his hand on Jazz's shoulder, "Then we won't. Missy it is."

Elita placed a hand on Prime's hip from the side, smiling as she watched the two mechs stand in front of Ratchet, peering down at their brand new sparkling. She looked up at her own mate, realising how lucky she was that the tall, handsome and gentle mech she called her own had helped her produce her own sparklings. She couldn't think of a better sire than Optimus – not just because he was a Prime, but because of the very spark that inhabited his chest. Yes, she loved his looks and interfacing appeal, but it was his essence that gave him his best qualities; his kindness, freely given love, concern, his caring attitude, intelligence, and his ability to see the good points in whatever mech or femme crossed his path, no matter how twisted they appeared on the outside.

As if that impressive list of his qualities wasn't enough, she added the 'naughtier' things she liked about him. His immense strength, the outright sexiness of his flaming armor, the small grunts and groans he made when they were on their berth interfacing together, the way he brushed his fingertips over the curves of her body when they were connected together and he was nestled between her thighs... and the size of his mech interface equipment. She grinned.

Optimus looked down at her with a curious expression, his mouthplates twitching, "What are you thinking, femme?" he enquired softly.

"... a few things about you that I can't say in public," she smirked, crossing her arms over her chest with a very self-satisfied expression.

Prime stiffened up at that. His optic shutters blinked rapidly. "Oh. Er...tell me later?"

"I'll _demonstrate_ later, if you like," she replied, and ran a slender fingertip over his hip armor – and down over his thick crotch.

Optimus clamped his jaw tight to stop himself from groaning, and crossed his arms gingerly over his protruding chest to keep from giving her a few indecent touches of his own. A better distraction for him came in the form of watching Jazz accepting Missy into his arms from Ratchet.

"We're doing the right thing," he murmured, his optics dimming with satisfaction at seeing Jazz and Prowl with their spark's desire – a sparkling of their own. "What Primus takes away with one hand, he gives back with the other. Missy lost her parental units, but gained a new pair. And while Jazz and Prowl may have thought they would never have a sparkling because they are both mechs, look at what has transpired." He laughed at the frightened expression on Prowl's face when Jazz handed over Missy to him to hold for the first time. Prowl looked terrified of dropping or damaging his new daughter, but he slowly relaxed, his optics looking down at Missy as if she was the most amazing thing he'd ever seen.

"I know someone else who had that same expression when HE was given his sparkling to hold for the first time," Elita commented, getting an evil grin from Ratchet.

"Femme, do not go causing trouble," Prime rumbled, unfolding one arm and giving her a poke with his index finger.

"Yes, I think I caused enough trouble for the universe when I helped you reproduce," Elita said slyly, watching Wheeljack move to help the miner mechs inspect their sad-looking shuttle and work out what repairs it required to get airborne again.

Optimus chose to keep quiet about that one, if he made any more comments they would be fuel for Elita's sharp wit. He couldn't keep up. He'd need his CPU intact enough to handle yet another new sparkling in the base. It was a miracle to see his beloved Autobots beginning to find their feet once again. They now had two femmes and three sparklings. Things were definitely looking up.


End file.
